Discworld Big Brother
by Watchman
Summary: Will Dibbler keep thinking up idiotic tasks? Will Angua finally be convinced that Vimes' isn't gay? Will the show go on? Who will win? Will anyone win at all? You decide.
1. Lights, Camera, Action

I don't know how this ones going to work out, but I got the idea after reading Ben Elton's 'Dead Famous'.

And of course, all characters belong to Terry Pratchett, because if I had made them up I would hardly be posting this here, would I.

* * *

Discworld Big Brother- 

"Hmm..." murmered Dibbler, looking into the piece of glass in his hands. "So where did you say you found it?"

"The University tip," answered Sol, looking into his own piece which showed the image of his uncle's face. "It's amazing the things which they call junk at that place."

"Yeah... kinda reminds me of all the moving pictures buisiness, y'know, with the taking one picture to somewhere else..."

"Yeah. Shame that we can't use them for anything..." Sol began, but stopped. Looking into his piece he could see that there was a gleam inhis uncle's eyes, a glimmer which he recongised only too well. Dibbler would never throw away an idea for making money, and Sol knew very well that these ideas had a tendency to bring pain and misfotune to _somebody. _Mostly consumers. His fingers stretched towards the box of shards he had brought. "Okay, I'll just be going now, don't worry about these, they're worthless anyway, so see ya, bye-"

"Wait just a minute, if these aren't going to be used for anything I'm sure that you'll have no objection to _me _having them," said Dibbler, his hand grabbing the other side of the box yet being careful not to let go of the one he still had.

"No, I think that-"

"They'll be worthless to you."

"They could be proved to be dangerous, wizards had them-"

"Do as your uncle says."

Sol gave a yelp as the box tore into two, causing the shards to cascade onto the table. The light from the candle in the middle shone through a few of them, projecting a collection of larger images of Dibbler's face onto the far wall, causing his already wide smile to rapidly increase.

Sol covered his face with his hand. Something bad was going to happen- He just knew it. Things often did when his uncle smiled that way. "...Right. If you need me, I'll be packing my bags. I hear that coaches to Quirm set off very early in the morning."

* * *

Lord Vetinari read through a road report written by sergeant Fred Colon. You could practically see where the man had paused between the words to stop and think for a minute. The entire thing had obviously been written besides a dictionary, so that he could look impressive when using difficult words such as 'because'.

He folded it up neatly and then dropped it into a wastepaper basket at his side. He then picked up his daily Ankh-Morpork Times, which Mr de Worde took great care in sending him a free copy of every morning.

"More troubles in Howondaland," Drumknott, who was sat at a desk nearby heard him say. Not knowing whether this was addressed to him or to the entire room in general he answered "Yes, sir."

"It always seems to be them in particular who recieve the droughts and tornados, strangely."

"Well I suppose they say similar about us, who have to put up with murders and monsters from different dimensions," he replied, with a little smile. It wasn't returned.

Vetinari turned the page over. "Ah. It seems that an individual named 'Cut My Own Throat' Dibbler is planning on reopening the moving pictures hall."

It was hard to know how to respond to Lord Vetinari, as he never seemed to use the luxury of emotion in his voice. "Oh... right," Drumknott settled for.

"Let us hope that there are no more huge, fifty foot women parading through the streets again. It would be a terrible blow for the tourism industry."

"Yes, I believe it would."

Vetinari put the paper down, and leant back in his chair slightly, steepling his fingers as he thought. "Either way, make sure that a close eye is kept on Mr Dibbler and his affairs over the next few days. As always when someone recieves an unusual idea in Ankh-Morpork, I'm sure that things will soon become very interesting for everyone."


	2. Contestants

It was William de Worde's lucky day. Every night he practically _prayed _that in the morning there would be some guy doing something crazy. The people of Ankh-Morpork generally liked crazy- it reassured them that there were nutters out there doing much worse things than they were. For an occasion as rare as this William had decided to go himself rather than sending one of the inexperienced reporters. Just him, his notebook, and about a thousand photographers.

"And so how will people be viewing this, Throat?" he was saying, his hand moving across the notebook in a blur.

"Ah, well, a few days ago I discovered an amazing object which will transport one image to somewhere else instantaneously. I call them my 'Eyes'. In the house there shall be Eyes posted around in different areas, so that nowhere is hidden, and people will be able to see what is happening in the house by watching it on the screen in the old moving pictures hall. The image from one of the Eyes I have shall be projected onto the screen, able to be viewed by all for a small fee."

"Very good. And you mentioned 'nowhere being hidden'? Some people might think that it is wrong for people to have their privacy infringed on. What are your thoughts?"

"The people entering the house shall be doing so of their own free will. They will be aware of the rules as they go in, and are free to leave at any time. If they didn't want to be seen, then they wouldn't go in."

"Fabulous. Who will be going in"?

"We will be having ten people in the house, and anyone can volunteer to enter. Anyone at all. ExceptformonsterswitchesforeignpeoplemrspalmandanyoneIowemoneyto. If you want to enter, come to an audition tomorrow at three o' clock in the moving pictures hall."

"Three... moving... pictures... hall. Got it."

"We hope to be seeing some famous faces in the house, because that will bring more viewers, which will bring more money, and of course, all money is going to feed starving millions in Howondaland."

"Of course. So... do you have a name for all this?"

Dibbler had been trying to prepare himself for this, but nothing had been coming. He needed a good name to spark it all off. Something people would be comfortable with, which would disguise the whole thing for the crude money maker it truly was. A name which represented someone who watched over you, was always there, yet perhaps ridiculed you occasionally. But what could it be?

And then it came to him, as if he had known it all along.

"Get ready, everyone, to watch the Older Sibling House."

* * *

Sam Vimes closed the door behind him, being careful not to make a sound. It had been a long night at the desk, and to be frank he was sick of it. He might have not liked rooftop chases that much when he was doing them, but everyone wants what they no longer have, as it is then that they truly appreciate it. Still, just because he was in a bad mood there was no need to take it out on his family. They would probably still be asleep at this time.

He received a great shock when he sneaked through the living room only to find Sybil already there with a newspaper and his son on her lap.

"You bring a new definition to the word 'late', Sam."

He sagged slightly. Every hour merged into the last one when he came to tackling the unscalable tower which was his paperwork- it was only too easy to not notice that the night had suddenly slipped away. Without a word he slumped into a chair, partly wishing he would never have to get up again.

_Whyis she reading a newspaper?_ he thought to himself. From Vimes' experience, women were satellites for the latest news, which they managed to transfer to each other somehow without the use of mere paper. Perhaps she was just doing it to annoy him that little bit, as she knew how much he hated it all after the Times had leapt on him once with reporters after an interesting murder. They wouldn't have found it so 'interesting' if it had been them who'd had to wrench the knife out of the murderers hand.

"This looks good..." she said quietly, as Young Sam grabbed a fistful of paper for no apparent reason.

"What does," Vimes asked, too tired to fake sounding interested.

"The Older Sibling House. A competition for the dash and daring. Spend ten weeks in a house while others are voted off by the public in order to win a large cash prize-"

"We don't need any money," he replied, reading her mind. "Besides, I'm not 'dash' _or_ 'daring'."

"Your the most dash and daring person I know, Sam."

He couldn't think of an answer to this, or at least not one which wouldn't end up leading to a large argument. He wanted to say 'Yes, but you _would _say that, you're my wife, it's a view that practically any wife would have of their husband. Just ask Mrs Sponge three streets away and she could happily tell you that Mister Sponge is good and courageous. Well, at least half of the time I expect she would'. But since he wasn't dash and daring enough to say this, he simply said "Mmf."

"There are always little dragons who need good homes. If you went to this competition then you might be able to draw people's attention to the Sunshine Sanctuary."

"I'd only be drawing attention the fact that the Watch's commander must be going insa-"

"Sam!"

"Yes dear..."

* * *

Sol was not in a good mood. Somehow every single reporter had been swung away from his direction so that Dibbler could continue to load upon them his 'Older Sibling' tripe. '_Older sibling'? _What the hell was that supposed to mean? But everyone loved it, and that was the most irritating thing. It could have been called 'People Being Watched' or 'They Don't Know You Hate Them' or perhaps even 'Let's Let Our Brains Melt While Watching People Do Nothing'. But '_Older Sibling'?_

"Oh well, it's three o' clock and no one's turned up, so I guess-"

"Just wait, there's still a few seconds left yet," Dibbler interrupted.

Five... four... three... two... one...

There was a hearty knock on the door.

"You can come in, Captain."

The six-foot dwarf ducked his head slightly as he came through the door. "Good afternoon, Mister Dibbler," he said, with a friendly smile.

"Congratulations, Captain, you are the first person to take the first step into the world of Older Sibling. How do you feel? Make up your mind because I'm sure a reporter will be asking you later. Take a seat."

"Thank you, Mister Dibbler. I can see that the moving pictures hall has still kept it's splendour."

_Was that sarcasm_? Dibbler thought, as a spider scuttled by his foot. No, surely not, Carrot wouldn't be sarcastic. Of course not.

More came, to Sol's distaste. Were they idiots? Why, _why _where they coming to this? Why did they _want _to make absolute fools of themselves for all to see?

Dibbler was attempting to find out.

"Okay. Congratulations on volunteering for Older sibling, how do you feel? Don't answer. What's your name?"

"Archancellor Mustrum Ridcully."

"Very good, you're a wizard I see, we'll have no cheating with magic, what are your motives for entering Older Sibling?"

"Ah, well, I was thinking of showing people that wizards don't have to be boring and fat and that they can do modern, 'groovy' things. Also I think it would be good for the Bursar if I took him on a short break from the University."

"Teacup!" the Bursar announced.

"...And I heard there's a cash prize," Ridcully quietly confided.

"Ah, I see. And you, so _you're _insane? Great, you're both on. Okay," He took a step to his right. "Name?"

"Ook."

"Yes, he's with us too," said Ridcully.

"He's a fish!"

"Quiet, Bursar."

Dibbler bit his lip. "Hmm... Should we allow animals? It might be unsanitary," he asked over his shoulder.

Sol shrugged. "Why not? We're showing the public ten people in a house with hopes that their going to either kill each other or have sex, so I'm sure that a mere great orangutan thrown into the formula won't cause too much of a stir."

"That's good enough for me- You had me at 'why not'. They just have to know they _accepted _that they would all catch fleas. Right, name?"

"For Gods' sake, Throat, you know me. Sam Vimes."

"Very good, so what are your motives for entering Older Sibling?"

"There aren't any. I'm doing this because my wife made me," he said, grumpily.

"Very good," he said, revealing that he wasn't the least bit interested in motives at all, if he was even listening. "And, oh... er, I know I said unsanitary was okay, but this might just be going too far..."

"'Ullo throat," said Nobby.

It was wrong, and a little evil, Vimes knew it, but attempting to get Nobby in might just be the end of this show... and his ticket out of it.

But Dibbler's brain was ticking. Why was it that people bought his pigeon wings, his pig pies, or his literal hot dogs? Was it because they knew that they were going to enjoy it? Because they knew it would be fine and every bite would be exactly as expected? Of course not. But they knew it was going to be a wild ride all the way. Nobby was the human enterainment equivelent of a good ol' Dibbler pasty.

"And with a little alteration that'll be a good line for the Times..." he muttered to himself. "Welcome to Older Sibling, Nobby!"

"Righ'. And I ain' got any motives or anything, I'm just in it for the cash."

"That's right, and let me just remind you all, it _is _one hundred thousand dollars!" he exclaimed aloud.

"And while on that subject, where _exactly _are you getting all this prize money, Throat?" said Vimes, folding his arms. "Unless you've started selling you're pig pies on an entirely different level, that is."

"Oh, don't worry about my money," said Dibbler, with a smile. "There's never going to need to be any worrying about my money again..."

At that moment the doors swung to the sides and a figure strode in, his dark clothes meeting with the dim light of the room as well as a shadow. Heads turned as he went past. People reconsidered their commitment and really began to think about what they had got themselves into, and Rincewind looked like he was about to wet himself when the Patrician sat down in the chair next to him. His eyes did not shift from straight ahead.

"Oh... my Lord," said Dibbler, now slightly uneasy. "What... What brings you here?"

"I wish to participate in this 'Older Sibling'."

"Glad you could join us, sir," contributed Carrot.

"Oh, er, right, erm, you? Erm okay, er... Lord, yes... um, name?"

He received a stony glare.

"All right, we'll just forget that. Um... motives?"

"I wish to observe this phenomenon. And I have other reasons which I wish to keep to myself."

He's not going to be keeping anything to himself anymore if he goes through with this... thought Vimes. Gods, _they're _all doing it of their own free will...

"Well, fine, fine, you can do whatever you want, my lord," said Dibbler, carefully. For some reason, like many people who are met by Vetinari's stare, he felt like he was being interrogated every time he said something, and there were a lot of things Dibbler particularly didn't want to reveal.

_But wouldn't it be brilliant if he ended up sleeping with someone..._ The more daring thoughts raced in the back of his head.

He mentally shook himself and tried to turn his attention to something else. "So, anyone else?"

After walking along the row of who he was starting to think of as the Victims, he came up to a stern faced woman who he hadn't noticed before. He wondered how he couldn't have due to her large, pointy hat.

"Oh, nononononono, I'm _sure _that I said there was specifically _no witches _allowed on Older Sibling."

"I know."

"So then why are you here?"

"Because you said that there was specifically no witches allowed on Older Sibling."

"'Ere, I remember you," said Nobby, surprising them all. "You got involved in that trouble at the Opera house a few years ago. You're from Lancre."

"Lancre?" said Rincewind, who happened to be quite experienced when it came to geography, having ran across most of it. "That's miles away!"

"Esme?"

Granny Weatherwax lifted her head slightly to see an ambitious wizard giving her a shy little wave. "Oh, Mustrum. It's you."

"You two know each other?" asked Dibbler. "I don't know... when we wrote the rules we said that all contestants should be complete strangers to each other."

Vimes snorted. "That'd be impossible. I've arrested half these people at some point in my life. You'd have to travel to each corner of the world to-"

"It's a disk."

"What?"

Rincewind felt everyone's gaze suddenly lay on him, and he cowered a little. He tried to hide the view of Vimes' face by lowering the brim of his hat. "It's a disk," he said to his feet. "The world doesn't have any corners."

Vimes continued to watch him squirm for a while before turning back to Dibbler. "Either way, you'd have to journey to a different dimension to find someone that Carrot doesn't know."

"Oh, sir, I'm sure I don't know _everyone,_" said Carrot, modestly. "I've never been to Omnia, after all."

"Fine then. You'd have to travel to Omnia. Is there anyone here from Omnia? I don't think so. The point is, Throat, we practically _all _know each other."

"I'm tired of this ride mummy, can we go eat a kipper?" suggested the Bursar.

"_Yes, _Bursar, we can _all _eat Kippers" said Ridcully, patronisingly, giving the wizard a few heavy pats on the back. "But he does have a point. Can we go for today? I'm sure that we're all going to be sick of each other for the next ten weeks."

"Yeah, sure. Well, victi- contestants, sleep well-"

"It's barely four," Carrot pointed out.

"-Stay awake well, because it's going to be a big day tomorrow."

"Esme, Esmerelda!" said Ridcully on the way out, jogging to keep up with her despite the fact she was walking.

"What?"

"I was wondering, well, if you need somewhere to stay for the night-"

"Don't you think I'm going to have to put up with you enough_ inside the house _rather than doing so when I don't have to?"

"Have to? But he said that you weren't allowed!"

"I consider that to mean I have to." And she left, seeming to travel at great speeds past anyone else while only striding.

"Ugh... dammit."

"Turnip!"

"Yes, come on Bursar."

"Ook."

"Hey Vimesy, can I talk to you a minute?" asked Dibbler before he left.

"As long as you swear not to call me 'Vimesy' again, Throat." he said, putting his helmet on.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to put up with that for the rest of your life after going on this... Mr Vimes. People are going to know you _extremely _well, and give you little nicknames based on the ways you act."

Vimes sighed. "Are you just trying to put me off even more? Or is it because you know that I have no choice about this? I am _not _doing this because I want to."

"I know that. But the subject I was wanting to talk to you about, is girls."

"Girls?"

"Yeah, girls. We don't have any. People want young women with little clothing, deceit and lying, affairs behind others backs."

"If you're suggesting that I go out and purchase a dress then I'm going to have to-"

"_No, _no no. I don't want _you _in a dress, Mr Vimes- That could put people off Older Sibling forever. No, what we want is the young female sergeant."

Vimes' eyes narrowed. "If you took Angua out of the Watch along with the rest of us then you would be _inviting _criminals and barbarian hordes to spend a holiday in Ankh-Morpork."

"Yeah, but don't you think it would be worth it?"

"No!"

"All right, all right, but... look at it from my point of view, okay? We bring in the nice young couple, beautiful Angua and good little Carrot. But she's presented with a choice. While in the house, wouldn't she prefer perhaps Rincewind? The Patrician? Or maybe even the Commander-"

"You're a great comedian. There is no way you can make me persuade a young girl to enter a contest where she may loose her boyfriend." He didn't want to have her subjected to the torture that he was going to have to endure. "Besides, she has a special condition. It really wouldn't be in her best interest to go into that damn house."

Dibbler exhaled deeply. "Mister Vimes, I didn't want to do this, but... We give the contestants in the house different tasks to do each week. Some tasks can be made worse for certain contestants, or perhaps more humiliating..."

When this caught on Vimes opened his mouth to say something when Dibbler interrupted. "It's not breaking the law, before you start," said Dibbler, holding up a hand, but this did nothing to lower Vimes' fury.

"...You are such as bastard, Throat. All right, I'll ask her. But if she doesn't agree then I can't force her."

Dibbler shrugged, trying to hide how extremely terrified he was about the situation he was getting himself into. He was threatening a watchman, and it was Vimes the City Watch commander at that! "On your own head be it."

* * *

Now that I've got started on this fanfic I don't think there's going to be any stopping me. Fasten your seat belts, if you conveniently happen to have some attached to the chair you're sat in.

Please review!


	3. Week 1: Settling in

I know that this is only taking little snippets of each days but how else could I cram an entire week into a single chapter? It's taken long enough to write this as it is...

The quick edit option is being stubborn so I'm having to use (1) for footnotes. It's not even letting me do dashes for breaks between different sections for some reason...

Please read carefully and decide who you wish to vote off.

* * *

**DAY 2 - 7.00AM**

A lot of people had come, Dibbler couldn't believe it. He'd expected a few, but when the coach had arrived to drop the contestants off at the house, the doors had opened to see a huge screaming crowd. He had been as surprised as they were, and the occasion had been memorable. Carrot had been quite cheery about the whole occasion- just waving to anyone who he knew in particular (which equalled practically the entire crowd), but it was easily visible how red he went when he noticed that more people wanted to shake his hand as he went past than they did the Patrician. Vetinari had been solemn, naturally, and Vimes had walked past as if there were no screaming fangirls surrounding him which each of them had gained for no apparent reason at all.

People had seemed a little confused once the doors closed and the contestants were all gone, as they didn't seem sure whether they were supposed to continue screaming and cheering. However, the crowd had slowly and gradually began to drift away... Over to the moving pictures theatre, where Sol had been stood with a bucket, ready to collect a dollar per person as they came in.

The whole idea about shining light through an Omniscope fragment to project the image onto a screen had worked better than Dibbler could have hoped. In the wall of the House there were been people to tweak the shards stationed behind the two way mirrors, so that the screen would switch from showing one place in the house to another. After all, the people weren't going to stay in one place forever, Dibbler had figured.

However, it had seemed that Rincewind _was _just going to stay in one place. Upon entering the house, each of them had gone of doing there own thing- the Bursar flapping his arms around like a headless chicken, Carrot generally getting to terms with everyone, Vimes walking around the house and inspecting it as if it was the scene of a crime, and Rincewind sat on his own in a bean bag chair in the corner. Dibbler had never got around to asking that particular contestant about his motives for entering the house, as at the time he had been too preoccupied talking to the much more interesting people. Looking at the man though, it now appeared that he had just wanted a place to stay where he could for a little while be reasonably safe.

**DAY 1 - 7.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Angua looked out of the back door. It was dark, but there had to be a light outside for even times like this in case they all decided to go out for a midnight swim. The Eyes didn't work very well in the dark.

She shut the door behind her as she sat on a red poofy chair, nearby where Carrot and Vimes were also sat. "There's a swimming pool out there," she said, and in a lower tone she added, "And another mirror."

"Gods, they must think that we're bloody idiots not to notice that there are Eyes behind those mirrors," Vimes whispered back. While having a quick look around he had spotted nearly twenty good places for one to be hidden. Why did he want to know? He just did, it was something which the policeman inside him insisted. If he was going to be spyed on he had to at _least _know who by and where.

"But does it really matter where the Eyes are, sir?" asked Carrot. "We know that people are going to be watching us, but we're not going to be doing anything which people don't want to see."

"You're right, Carrot. Because anything we do they _will _want to see, especially if we don't want them to. I'm just wondering wether we should tell the others about it."

But it seemed they didn't need to, for at that moment Granny Weatherwax re-entered the room, looking furious. "There's one of those Eyes behind the mirror in the bathroom!" she announced.

"So?" commented Ridcully, who had taken this opportunity to inspect the contents of the fridge.

"People will be able to watch me while I'm on the toilet!" This was obviously a sin as soon as she said it.

"Oh, er, well," said Carrot, his face turning slightly red, "I'm sure that they won't show anything like that, or at least people will turn away..."

"Of course, Esme, it would be ungentlemanly to show a woman brushing her teeth to the public," said Ridcully.

"They're here! Killer sheep are everywhere!"

"Quiet, Bursar," said Ridcully, giving him what he had found to be the most efficient way of calming him in situations like these- A hard smack on the back of the head.

"I don't think there's such thing as killer sheep," muttered Rincewind. This was the first thing he had said upon entering the house. "If there were I would have known."

"But what about if you think of it from the point of view of a blade of grass?" commented Carrot, conversationally. "Then killer sheep would be quite feasible."

"Carrot," said Vimes in a sharp tone, "I've warned you not to talk to wizards. They're not safe, and they make you say incredibly pointless things."

"Sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize, it's just that if you and Angua lose your sanity and join in with the madness I wouldn't know _what _I'd do. Don't let the idiocy of all this get to you."

Lord Vetinari listened in interest as the nine of them squabbled on about things which to him seemed to be quite pointless. He didn't contribute to the conversations of course- he didn't need to. They seemed to be doing quite well without him and this left him with the opportunity to simply sit and watch as the world went mad around him.

Besides, he knew fully well that if he _did _say something to one of them they would be stuck and not know how to react. He wasn't being kind in not speaking, he just wanted to save this little trick for later. It should be quite amusing.

"Help! Heeeeelp!"

This was from Rincewind, who seemed to be disappearing. The orange bean bag chair which had seemed innocent enough(1) looked like it was starting to swallow him up like a brick through jelly. Fortunately, a helping hand from Carrot got him out immediately. "Are you all right?"

"Y-Yes, thanks..." he replied, the only person ever to have nearly killed themselves with their own seat.

"Hey Rincewind, that reminds me, where's your thing?" asked Ridcully.

"Huh? What?"

"You know, your thing. Little legs, makes people scream, you know..."

"Oh, you mean the Luggage."

"The what?" said Vimes.

"My Luggage. Erm... it's a box that has little legs..."

It had happened again. He hated talking to lots of other people because the things he said tended to cause people to turn and stare at him, and from his experience he had learnt that it was not wise to draw attention to oneself. "It follows me around, you might have seen it..."

"You remember, sir?" said Angua in an undertone. "A few months ago, ate sergeant Perry."

"Hah! That thing? Well then I expect that the security men outside are going to be having a suprise."

* * *

(1)Apart from the colour, admittedly. No piece of furniture should have the right to look so naturally cheerful.

* * *

**DAY 1- 10.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

The first real problem had arose when people had decided that they were already so sick of each other they would hide it by saying that they wanted to go to bed.

"There's only two bedrooms," said Nobby, it being so ironic that he in particular should be the one to point out this catastrophe.

"Well, I expect that it'll be one for the men and one for the women," said Ridcully.

"Ook!"

"Sorry, I don't think that had primates in mind at the time. But it doesn't seem very fair, does it? I mean, there are two women while there are eight men," He glanced at the Librarian. "...And orangutans," He glanced at Nobby. "...And... no, we'll stick to men and orangutans for the time being."

"Hmph. You can't expect me to share a bedroom with anyone," said Granny Weatherwax, and just to add another hand to the argument she also said, "A woman of my age."

"It would only be Angua sleeping in the same room as you," said Carrot.

"Yes, it's not like Nobby's sharing the room with you, even if he does like to wear a dress half the time," Vimes added.

"That's right," said Nobby, "I mean, how would you feel if _I _said I wanted to have the room to myself?"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea..." murmured Angua. "Look, it doesn't matter all too much. She can have the room to herself if she wants, I'll just sleep with everyone else."

"Yes, you do that," said the Bursar, who was starting to lightly paddle in the shallows of the present.

Vimes looked slightly doubtful. "Perhaps you should sleep in the living room..."

**DAY ONE- 10.00PM**

"No!" exclaimed Dibbler, roughly a mile away. "Let her sleep with all the men!"

**DAY ONE- 10.00PM**

It seemed that Ridcully had a similar opinion to Dibbler, even if he did not know it.

"How _dare _you suggest that a young woman should sleep on the sofa while we're all in beds!"exclaimed Ridcully, taking an authoritative step closer to the Watchman.

"Well then how about _you _be so kind as to sleep out here along with all of us so that she can have the entire bedroom to herself?" replied Vimes, causing Ridcully's beard to bristle.

In the end, Granny Weatherwax slept in one bedroom, Angua slept in the other, and all the men and Nobby slept in the living room.

**DAY TWO- 11:3OAM**

"Congratulations upon leaving the Older Sibling House! How do you feel?"

"Very good, Mrs Jeanis, I'll be sure to contact you if you get the part."

Dibbler watched as the woman walked away, obviously trying to persuade herself that she had done a brilliant job while at the same time demanding her tear ducts to stop working. Somehow these people were just not _getting it. _Dibbler didn't want your average Mary or Susan with their wet, hopeful expressions for this job, no. He wanted Chloe or Zara, who had a waist you could fit a single hand around and the impression that they had shoved two melons down they're top. A sugar induced hyper activeness would be welcomed, too.

He turned to the next woman. She had quite a nice figure he had to admit, even if it was not hour glass like, but she was wearing an extremely plain dress. Her hair was white with a black streak, yet it was tied up in a tight, no nonsense bun. She looked more like the type of woman to force a handkerchief under your protesting nose at the first sign of a sneeze rather than the type of person to jump up and down in excitement at the sight of someone walking out of a door.

Honestly, were these people not getting the message?

"Name?"

"Susan."

_Why did I ask? I should have known. _

"All right then. Give me what you got."

She cleared her throat. Why was she doing this? Because she need money, although she hated to admit it. This was said to be the road to fame, so like many others she had decided to take her shot. Everyone was entitled to at least one.

She could do it and hate it at the same time, she had decided.

"Congratulations upon leaving the Older Sibling House. How do you feel."

Dibbler sighed. "Yes, well, we were looking for someone who actually sounded a little interested in the subject."

"How interested?"

"Extremely interested."

"Up to what extent?"

"Up to the extent of raising the roof due to overly high-pitched screams of excitement, I was hoping."

"Fine then." She closed her eyes, and for a second appeared to be in deep concentration. She then opened them.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! OH MY GODS! YOU'VE JUST LEFT THE OLDER SIBLING HOUSE, AND WE ALL SO LOVE YA FOR IT! OH YEAH! LIKE, WE'RE ALL SO DESPERATE TO KNOW HOW YOU _FEEL!"_

She closed her mouth. "Was that interested enough?"

Dibbler's face was still frozen. He was trying to figure out if his ear drums were still intact.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Susan..."

**DAY 3- 7.30AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes peeled his cheek away from the one cushion which made all the difference to his bed being the floor. For the second night. Devoid of any objections, the Patrician had immediately dominated the sofa. Vimes had to admit that it was simply plain _weird _to have the man sleeping in the same room as him. There was no other word for it. Heck, he had never even been sure that Vetinari slept at _all._

Rincewind was again in the bean bag chair which had betrayed him once before, and looked like it had decided to slowly consume him in his sleep. Nobby was sprawled out upside down on one of the chairs, while Carrot was sat in the other. You could be given the impression that he wasn't asleep at all the way he was sat, until you got closer and heard the occasional snore errupting from within him. The Bursar was asleep on one of the chairs by the table, his head lolling over the back of it.

Ridcully was also asleep on the floor. For some reason, Vimes got the impression that he had wanted to _prove _something by doing this.

The Librarian ambled past, his knuckles coming dangerously close to Vimes' head. "Good morning," he said, inching away slightly.

"Ook."

The Librarian continued on his way, and then Vimes realised that he had a towel across his shoulder and he was on his way to the bathroom. Dear Gods, why did the hairy ape have to be the one to get the shower first?

"Well, it seems you've finally decided to wake up!" said a voice, causing Vimes head to turn upwards. Ridcully was stood there, fully dressed, practically radiating the fact that he was an early riser, he had been up hours before you, and you definitely did not see him sleeping away happily a couple of seconds ago, certainly not. "Nothing like an early morning sprint, hmm? Oh wait, you wouldn't know that would you, as you're still in bed."

Vimes rose to lean on his elbows and ran a hand across his face. He was starting to get the impression that for some reason, Ridcully had something against him. "Do you have something against me, Ridcully?" he inquired, in a voice which sounded only too innocent.

"Of course not. There was a little trouble at first when you had to realize that I was the leader of this group, but I think we're through that now."

Vimes' jaw nearly dropped. So was _that _what this was all about? Ridcully thought that since he was in charge of all the wizards at the Unseen University he was in charge off all the people here? Ludicrous. The whole situation must be getting to him already, he decided. "And so the Patrician isn't included at all in your little view of things, is he not?"

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING," said a voice suddenly at such a volume it caused any still sleeping contestants to awake with a severe start and the rest to cover their ears. There was then a sound which suggested technical adjustment, and the voice came once again, this time calm and cool. It was a male voice. "This is Older Sibling. Please will everyone enter the living room."

It took a while. They got dressed because they knew they were being watched live and they would be damned before they allowed their underwear to be seen by the public. They eventually all stumbled in, tired and craving coffee.

"It is time for your weekly task," said the voice.

"Task?" said Nobby, speaking aloud everyone's thoughts.

"Yes. Each week you will be issued with a task. If you pass the task you will receive a reward."

"And if we fail?" said Angua.

There was a slight pause. "...Then you will be punished."

A couple of glances were shared. "What's the task?" asked Carrot.

"Over two days a pantomime must be written with help from all contestants. The pantomime must contain a narrator, a chivalrous hero, a sidekick, an evil villain, a dragon and a charming princess. Other contestants must play their role as a dutiful audience."

"Damn you Dibbler!" shouted Vimes.

"All common pantomime rules must be followed and the pantomime must be reasonably interesting. It will be presented on day five at eleven o' clock. Good luck."

At this point Rincewind slipped away into the diary room.

"Er, hello, Older Sibling," he said, sitting himself down, his frayed, faded red robes contrasting with the bright gaudy room.

"Hello, Rincewind," said a man on the other side of a two way mirror. He was very happy. He was paid ten dollars an hour in this job."What are your concerns?"

"...It's just about this task that we were just given..."

"Yes, Rincewind?"

"Well, I'm not a very good actor..."

"The Older Sibling crew is fully aware that contestants are not professional actors and will be marking the performance accordingly."

"Oh, good," he said gloomily. Oddly, he didn't seem all too cheered up by this.

**DAY 4- 3.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Okay..." said Vimes, after inhaling deeply from his one cigar he was permitted each day. "Let's see what we've got."

"From the beginning?"

"Yes, from the beginning."

Carrot tucked his pen behind his ear, because this is what he knew people to do. Angua couldn't help but smile at this, and the fact that he didn't seem at all abashed. "Ahem. Act 1, Scene 1. Enter Narrator. Once upon a time." He put the sheets back down on the table. "What do you think?"

Rincewind scratched the back of his head. "Ah, well, it's okay but..."

"It's shite," Nobby contributed.

"It's not exactly awe inspiring, but..."

"I thought it was absolutely lovely," said the Bursar clasping his hands together, with a manner which caused all of them to lean away slightly.

"I went to see a pantomime once," Granny Weatherwax announced to the world.

"Did you?" sighed Vimes, exasperatedly.

"Yes. There was a woman pretending to be a man, wearing _trousers,_" she stressed, "Two men pretending to be a cow, and at one point they came out with buckets and got me wet!"

"That's a good point, actually," said Ridcully. "The main male role has to be played by a woman..." They all instinctively turned to Angua.

"Oh, come one, I'm not the _only _woman in here. What about-"

"I _refuse _to dress as a man."

"All right then, I'll do it..." she said, defeated. "So who's playing the princess, then?"

There was general discomfort all around, until Ridcully spoke. "Well, it would have to be Esmerelda, wouldn't it."

"I'm 'fraid you wouldn't be the one who had to kiss her at the end, lover boy," said Vimes. "Besides, there're other characters. A narrator, sidekick, dragon and an evil villain, I think it was."

"Well I know who _you _should play."

**DAY 5- 10.45: IN THE HOUSE**

"Nice of them to leave us the costumes rather than forcing us to _make _them," muttered Vimes, picking his way through the array of brightly coloured monstrosities in search of his, which he was sure was the worst.

"Oh, they wouldn't be as mean as that, sir," said Carrot, examining his hat before placing it on his head.

"You don't get it, Carrot. They _would._"

"How could anyone fight wearing this armour?" Angua queried to herself quietly, examining a breastplate so shiny it practically glowed orange.

"Oh yes, I have to ask you," said Vimes to the huge dress and wig which had been trying to walk past him unnoticed. "Why did you not mind at all playing the roll of the princess?"

The small, sad face of Rincewind looked out from within the golden locks. "I've had a lot of practice in my life running away from things and screaming," he said, with an attempt at a weak little smile. "I should be quite good at it, and this time I should be fortunate enough to be rescued by someone."

Vimes considered this for a few seconds, as he pulled a huge zip up to under his chin.

**DAY 5- 11.00: IN THE HOUSE**

Some makeshift curtains had been stationed in the living room, but they did nothing to hide the commotion coming from behind. It sounded like another argument had started, and it was inches away from turning into a fight.

After a while Vimes' head poked out from the gap in the curtains, clearly making sure he was not exposing any other part of his body at all. "Ridcully! What're you doing out there?"

"Waiting for the entertainment extravaganza," he answered.

"But what about your part?"

"I decided I'm not doing it anymore."

"What?"

"I'm a senior wizard. Besides, the Bursar hasn't got a part and you don't have any problem about him."

Vimes regarded the other wizard who appeared to be seeing which of his hands was stronger than the other by having an arm wrestling match with himself. He shook his head, and then turned to the last resort. "You."

"Ook?"

"Yes, you. You're in, come on. We'll give your lines to you quickly..."

The orangutan waddled over and through the curtains. There appeared to be a little more commotion. After a couple more minutes of dispute the curtains were drawn apart to reveal the Librarian- a green tie around the region where his neck should have been.

He looked down at the palm of his huge hand where a few words had been scribbled, and then looked up at the four people before him who made his audience, plus the mirror behind them which made the total of people watching roughly five hundred at least.

He took a deep breath.

"Ook. Ook ook ook, ook ook. Ook ook ook? Ook. Eek! Ook ook."

He bowed and walked to the side.

"This should be good," Granny Weatherwax muttered to herself.

**DAY SIX- 9.00AM**

Dibbler woke up from an extremely good night's sleep. He couldn't believe how wonderful it had been. The plot had been terrible, but people watched as if it had been written by Hwell. The quality of acting had been pitiful, but people had loved the characters as if each of them had been played by the great Tomjon.

He had been quite surprised by the Patrician. Everyone knew him to hate acting of all forms- this could easily be told by the amount of bodies hung up outside of the palace, and the extremities of make up each corpse was wearing. However, he had made a great sidekick for Angua, even if she had felt a little uneasy about telling her ruler to fetch her sparkly sword. Oh yes, they had loved Angua. She had the looks for acting, if not unfortunately the talent. She was too serious for it, however hundreds of people had seen Rincewind blush as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

Vimes had been hilarious, probably due to his great effort not to be. Seeing the great 'Vimes the Butcher' wearing a demented dragon costume was something you would only see once in your life. Brilliant.

But that was nothing compared to Carrot. Carrot had been amazing. Yesterday morning he had been a completely different man. It was the large curly black moustache which had done it for him, he decided in the end. Everyone had agreed that he'd managed to get the effectiveness of the laugh to it's peak.

And it was only just nearly the end of week one.

**DAY SIX- 4.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Did we win, then?" asked Granny Weatherwax.

"Yes, we did," answered Angua.

"Good. What did we win?"

Rincewind who was nearest to the fridge allowed it to swing open. It was completely full of-

"It's beer," said Nobby, walking away carrying as many bottles as was humanly possible for a person of his size.

"Oh good. After doing something as ridiculous as that we get something to make us forget it immediately," said Vimes.

"I thought that you weren't drinking, sir," said Carrot.

"Oh, yes. Silly me. I forgot."

**DAY SIX- 4.30PM**

"Damn it!" exclaimed Dibbler, banging his fists against the arms of his seat as he heard this. "I never knew he didn't drink anymore! That takes the fun out of everything!"

**DAY SIX- 4.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Wait, I think I've seen this type of drink before," said Granny.

"Yes. It's beer- quite common in Ankh-Morpork," said Angua, bluntly. She had a bottle too, and was taking a drink.

"I know that," Granny snapped. "What I mean is I know what _type _it is. It's made in Lancre. Scumble."

Ridcully stopped drinking and took a closer look at the bottle he was holding. "_Scumble?"_

"Why? What's so special about Scumble?" asked Carrot.

"It's made of apples. Well, mostly apples."

"It gets you absolutely pissed drunk I would imagine," said Vimes.

"Tha's fine with me," said Nobby with a smile.

Angua who had just taken a swig at that moment ran out of the room and into the bathroom. She didn't look like she was feeling too well.

"Will she be all right?" asked Carrot.

"How much did she drink?" asked Ridcully.

"It looked like roughly half a bottle..."

"Well, let's say that the people watching with the Eyes in the bathroom are going to be having an interesting time."

**DAY SIX- 5.00PM:IN THE HOUSE**

"This is Older Sibling," said the loud voice again, causing them all to jump. "As you know, the Ankh-Morporkian public has been watching your actions livefor nearly a week now."

"Please, don't remind me," said Vimes.

"Tonight we shall be taking in votes of who is to be voted out of the Older Sibling House, and you shall be informed about the results tomorrow. Good luck."

The voice disappeared.

"Good lords," said Vimes, covering his face with his hand. "I never thought I'd be so unfortunate as to have my fate resting in the hands of the good Ankh-Morporkian public."

* * *

Sorry, this vote is closed now. The next should be open soon.

Please review!


	4. The First Elimination

Thanks for the votes, they've all been read, and here's the next chapter which in a sense you decided!

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**DAY SEVEN- 11.00PM**

People skirted back and forwards non-stop across the new set as if possessed, and none of them seemed to be noticing Susan stood in the midst of it all despite how hard she tried to make them.

"Excuse me," she said, follwing one of them a few steps along until she realised that they weren't going to stop. "Excuse me?" she tried again.

"**MR DIBBLER**," said a foreboding voice from behind which caused him to jump three feet. He turned and was even more suprised to see that it was only Susan.

"Oh, it's you. And?"

"It's this dress I'm supposed to be wearing."

"So what's wrong with it?"

She held forward the offending item of clothing for him to examine. He opened it up, seeing that it was long and dark blue. "I don't see anything wrong with it, Miss."

She snatched it away and held it up to her own body. "If that neck line was any lower it would be around my knees."

His face was vacant, as if he still couldn't find any personal objection with this. With an irritated sigh she walked away dragging the dress behind her, knowing that whoever she asked she wasn't about to find someone on her side with this one.

He shook his head and turned back to the behind-the-scenes crew who were waiting for his signal. "Alright, it's the moment that everyone's been waiting for. We're on in three... two... one..."

**DAY SEVEN- 11.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Everything was peacefull. Vimes was sleeping on the floor at one side of the room, Ridcully at the other. Vetinari was lying on the sofa, lying as straight as a plank. Carrot had slumped forwards in his chair during his sleep and was threatening to topple off completely, and Rincewind was curled up on the top of the cabinet. No one was quite sure how he had got there.

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING," said a voice at decibels which could disturb a corspe. Vimes didn't qualify as a corpse, but now he certainly felt like one. "PLEASE ENTER THE LIVING ROOM."

"What time is it...?" muttered Nobby, emerging from his fortress of stacked pillows.

"It's so late it's early," muttered Angua, gently rubbing the lids of her eyes.

"It's wrong, waking people up at this time," anounced Granny Weatherwax, oddly enough fully dressed despite the fact everyone else was in their pyjamas.

"Older Sibling apoligises for needing to wake you at this time."

"Then why did you bloody do it?" asked Vimes, loudly. He wasn't in a good mood and he wanted a vat of coffee.

"It is time for you all to hear who will be leaving the Older Sibling house."

Silence swept across the house as they held their breaths in suspense. After a couple of minutes had uneventfully passed and the Bursar was looking quite purple, Ridcully broke the silence. "So? Who's going out then?"

"...Vimes."

There was a sympathetic groan and they all turned towards him. However, he seemed to look quite cheerfull about this. "Well, it's been an interesting experience, but I'll be glad to-"

"...You are _not _going to be leaving the Older Sibling House."

"DAMN!"

"Rinewind, _you _are not being voted off."

"Oh. That's good I suppose."

"Mistress Weatherwax, you are _not-"_

"Just tell us who has been voted off," said someone, and they were suprised to find that it had been Lord Vetinari. "I cannot deal with all this time wasting."

There was a sound of confused mumbling from where the voice should have been coming from, as it appeared that the person on the other side was deciding who was more likely to kill him if he didn't comply- An annoyed Dibbler or an irritated Patrician. It soon became obvious who he had decided to place his bets on. "Bursaryouhavebeenvotedoffyouhavethirtyminutestoexitthankyouandgoodnight."

More silence.

"So that's it?" said Angua.

"Seems so."

She shrugged. "Well, I'm making some coffee. If anyone wants some they'll have to wait- I'm not making nine cups."

"How are you feeling, Bursar?" asked Ridcully.

"Personally, quite like a guitar!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, good."

Carrot was quite concerned. Vimes was hunched up in his seat and for some reason he didn't seem to want to look at anyone. "Angua?"

"Yes, Carrot?"

"I think there's something wrong with Mister Vimes. He's just sitting there and murmuring things that sound like 'I was so close'."

"Just let him be, he should come round in a few minutes. He's just recieved a severe dissapointment."

**DAY SEVEN- 11.30PM**

People for miles around heard it. The echoes of it could be heard as far out as at Quirm.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

An excited scream from a thousand Ankh-Morporkian mouths challenged this. The Bursar squinted as hundreds of salamanders shone their light in his face enabling the imps to get a perfect view. He walked across a makeshift bridge to where it appeared an ecstatic woman was waiting for him.

"CONGRATULATIONS..." She took a second to examine the back of her hand, "...BURSAR! YOU ARE THE FIRST TO LEAVE THE OLDER SIBLING HOUSE! HOW DO YOU _FEEL?"_

The Bursar was quite sure that he'd already answered that question this afternoon. "Quite like a guitar," he repeated.

"WOW! THAT'S, LIKE, _SO _AMAZING!" She then quieted, perhaps to catch her breath. She offered a hand to the Bursar, who took it, and then led him into a comfortable chair on a stage. She sat in the one opposite. "So, Bursar, tell us about the highlights of your week in the House."

"Well, it was all very fun on the first night when we stayed up and made peanut butter sandwhiches for five hours straight and then fed them all to George, but the best part would have to be when they brought in the elephant and we all had a jolly good time playing hide and seek with it. All good fun."

She glanced back at a man who was carrying an omniscope shard, who shrugged. "Oh, good," she said, leaning forwards to give him a patronising pat on the shoulder. "Any regrets?"

He seemed to give this one real consideration. "Yes. I wish that I had been more interesting to the public so that I could stay on the show. With one hundred thousand dollars I would never have to spend my life in the University only to be summoned by the Archancellor whenever something breaks through from the dungeon dimension..."

She gave him a quick nod, and then turned to the audience. "So, who will win? Will it be quaint Carrot, the silent Patrician, Angua the pantomime hero, Rincewind the victim, Nobby Nobs who needs no description, The Librarian, or old Stoneface and Ridcully who we all _know _are going to end up having a fight? Well it's not up to me to decide, it's up to you! Their fate lies in you hands to be voted this time next week! WOOOO!"

* * *

Yeah, I know it's short. Sorry it's taken mea long time, but my exams creeped up on me sooner than I thought they would.

The previous votes aren't counted in the next one, and anyone who has voted is free to vote again. Just one thing_-Don't vote yet_. Wait until the end of the next chapter.

Please review!


	5. Week 2: Musical Interlude

Okay, so I know it's been a long time since my last update (blame the exams- not me!) but here's the next chapter.

I've tried to include all the characters a bit more in this one, as requested.

I'll say this now. **Don't vote who you want to go out in a review! If you want to vote, send the name of who you want to leave (**and prefarably some comments why**) to me in an email! **My email address is in my bio. Remember, the less votes I get, the longer it will take 'till I can write the next chapter. So please, votevotevote!

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DAY 8- 1.30AM: IN THE HOUSE

It was a wonder how everyone got back to sleep after the bucket loads of coffee they had drank. It hadn't gone to Dibbler's plans at all. He'd woken them all up at midnight so that they could get drunk and have a party to celebrate still being in the show, but for some reason they had all just gone back to bed looking miserable. He couldn't understand for the life of him why.

Carrot opened one eye sleepily as he heard yet another conversation about coffee, and he lifted his head slightly. Everything was still dark, however, and it seemed that everyone else was asleep again. The whispering continued- it seemed that since there was so much silence at the moment compared to the raging arguments which consumed most of the time he could hear the people working behind the walls talking. Realising that he probably wasn't allowed to be listening to this under pain of being disqualified, he immediately pretended to be asleep again, feeling horribly dishonest.

"...Not at all to Dibbler's liking."

"Mm, I think he wanted a few more arguments."

"What about Stoneface and Ridcully?"

"They're good, but not enough. He's been trying hard to think of new challenges which're really going to get them angry."

There was a pause, presumably while one of them took a long swig.

"So what's he planning, John?"

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff. Ridiculing them and stuff like that."

"Don't you think it's a bit harsh on them? Ruining their lives just to make some money?"

"Why is that our bother? They were idiots enough to come on this show- We get to do anything we like to them."

"Yeah, I guess. So what's this particular stressful task he's going to be unleashing on them?"

"Well, I overheard that at some point he's going to stop giving them their food supplies for a week. Even the Patrician shouldn't be able to get through something like that."

"But why?"

"I dunno. Perhaps he wants them to turn to cannibalism, or eat the furniture or something. Either way, it's entertainment."

"Getting money out of someone else's misery..."

"Yeah... I love this job."

DAY 8- 8.00AM: IN THE HOUSE

"What I don't understand," said Angua, sitting down at the table with everyone else, "Is why just because I make coffee once that brands me official 'coffee maker' for everyone."

"It's a great honour, dear girl," said Ridcully, accepting his cup graciously. "Without you fulfilling your duty we would not be here in this state."

"Well, since it's such a wonderful thing I think it should pass to _you," _she said, knowing that it wouldn't work but trying nonetheless.

"I'm afraid I can't. It is my role to preside over all affairs and make sure that they are fulfilled adequately, whereas for a person of your stature being coffee maker is suitable."

"In other words he's saying 'because you're a woman'," said Vimes.

"Gender discrimination," Nobby muttered.

Ridcully glanced at him. "What?"

"You misogynist pigs are always trying to put women down. It's because you're afraid! You're afraid of what we're capable of when we band together!"

They all stared at him. Rincewind dropped his toast, perplexed.

"I think that I can bring an answer to the confusion," said Vetinari, reminding them all that he was there and watching them with sincere interest. "While spending a brief period in Quirm let us say that Cecil Nobbs had a quite... ah, interesting experience of a woman's life."

"Just think that it's wrong for these things to be put upon women, that's all 'm saying..."

"Well, personally I don't see anything wrong with it," said Ridcully. "The purpose of women _is _to do jobs which we don't like. What do you think, Rincewind?"

"Hmm? Me?" he asked, worriedly as he was dragged into the conversation. "Oh, well... I think it's okay, but women should be allowed to... erm, yeah."

"Exactly," confirmed Ridcully, triumphantly. "And so the point remains that being coffee maker is a female's job."

"Then why doesn't Misstress Weatherwax do it?" protested Angua.

"Because-"

"Because _I," _she interrupted, "Am senior witch."

There was a slight pause. Vimes stirred his coffee contemplatively. "But you would be, wouldn't you, as your the only witch here."

"That doesn't matter. It's the principal that counts."

"Oh, yes. Of course, if you had to make the coffee you'd probably use a horrible spell which turned it into _tea..."_

Granny scowled. It didn't take much to realize that Vimes wasn't an indulger of the mystic forces. "I just might."

DAY 9- 3.00PM: IN THE HOUSE

They'd been in there for nearly two hours now. At first she had been willing to allow them to indulge, but enough was enough.

"Nobby!" she shouted again, banging her fist on the door. "You've had long enough, get out of the toilet _now, _and bring the Librarian out with you!"

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm busy, okay?"

"This isn't protesting about women's rights again, is it? We all had a laugh about the soup in Ridcully's hat, but this is different!"

"Some of us are desperate," whimpered Rincewind, doing the special dance of one who has waited long already(2).

"It's my choice when I exit the toilet, not anyone else's."

"Ook!"

"Exactly."

"What's going on?" asked Vimes who had been on his way to the diary room but couldn't help noticing the developing queue as he passed.

Angua turned, heightened with fury. "He's been in there for nearly two hours!"

"Perhaps he's in the shower," said Vimes, but realised that the words sounded stupid as he said them.

"Come on old boy," said Ridcully, "Whatever you're doing in there had better not be too frivolous- The Librarian isn't as young as he used to be, you know!"

Vimes looked at him, one eyebrow raised curiously. "And what type of frivolous things do you have in mind, exactly?"

"Well, you _know, _doodling on the walls... squirting the toothpaste everywhere..."

"Nobby," said Angua once again through clenched teeth, "Come out with your hands up or I'll have to make my way in there by force."

She seemed to be really taking this to heart. Either it was getting closer to the full moon (which Vimes sincerely hoped it wasn't), or she was just_ really_ desperate.

"Carrot, please could you knock this door down?"

He frowned slightly, as this came in his book under 'A definite breach of privacy'. "I'm not sure..."

"It is in all of our best interests, captain," said Ridcully.

He gave a glance at Vimes, who shrugged. With this, Carrot grabbed the handle of the door and wrenched it open.

At its first opportunity of being freed the huge amount of water which had been stored up behind the door rushed out.

Rincewind dived for cover, shortly followed by Ridcully. Vimes leapt onto the nearest chair, whilst Angua and Carrot, being nearest to the door, received the full blast of it. Vetinari, who was still sat at the table drinking a cup of coffee, simply lifted his feet slightly as the water rushed passed, his eyes not flickering away from the book he was reading.

He smiled slightly as the shouting commenced.

"The water running... Sinks blocked up with paper... What did you think you were _doing?_"

"We were making a river, if you don't mind."

"Why?"

"I dunno. We were bored. Hey, and it wasn't just me- he helped too!"

"Eek!"

Vimes shook his head. He tentatively got down from on top of the chair and paddled his way to the diary room.

"Good afternoon, Sam Vimes," said the voice.

"Afternoon, Older Sibling," he said, sitting down on the cushions with his arms folded.

"You seem to be stressed, Sam."

"Vimes. Yes, I am stressed." He leant forwards at the Eye. "I swear this is unhealthy for people. They're all going stir-crazy in there. I know, I've seen it before."

"The contestants knew the rules and what was going to happen before they entered for the show."

"I know that, that's not what I'm complaining about. The problem is how _you _expect _me _to get through it all happily without strangling someone when I'm only allowed one cigar a day!"

"That is the allotted amount for each contestant. If you are feeling unhappy, Older Sibling has provided alcohol for you to make yourself feel better."

"That's a different subject. The beer you've supplied us with is only for making us look like fools while you laugh at us. And besides," he added, "I'm off drink. I haven't had a beer for a long time now and I don't intend to start."

Watching this a distance away, Dibbler swore to alter this.

"There's also a different bone I have to pick."

"Yes, Sam?"

"Vimes. It's about our food."

No reply.

"When I looked this morning there was a jar of jam from before, but when I looked a little later the whole thing had gone. Same about the butter."

Some whispering began about this, causing Vimes to smile slightly. It seemed he had struck something.

"Older Sibling assures you that no food has been deliberately taken."

It was hard to detect a lie in the almost inhumanly bland voice. "I don't feel inclined to believe you."

"If any food was going to be taken it would have been announced as a task. The mentioned items must have been consumed, or perhaps taken by a different housemate."

* * *

(2)This is scientifically proven to work.

* * *

DAY 10- 5.00PM

"Well, we at the Unseen University are only too glad to help the community in anyway we can."

It would be wrong to say that the University wasat aloss without Ridcully. On the contrary. These were probably the best days that the wizards had ever seen, and the Bursar was starting to seem a lot better. They had managed to get him down from saying 'teacup' every minute down to only every odd hour now.

The biggest problem was the library. The books seemed to be going out of control with the knowledge that their master and tamer had left, and the place had been barred off after numerous disappearances and one particular student exiting every hour, despite having only entered once. Wizards who were allowed out were spending nearly all their dollars on voting the Librarian out with hopes of self preservation.

"I seem to recall a certain invention," said Dibbler. "A 'music catcher' of some sort, I think it was..."

"Ah, yes," said Ponder Stibbons. "One of my inventions. Quite simple, really, yet it never kicked off. People saying things like it was _wrong _to superimpose science onto music, and that the soul of the tune could never be truly captured." He seemed slightly put out.

"Mm. But anyway, do you think I could... have a few?"

"Is... is this for that 'Older Sibling' thing you do?"

Dibbler considered the question, finally deeming it to be quite safe. "Yes. Why?"

"You are using valuable university property which hasn't been officially entrusted to you. Omniscopes are valuable objects which take years to make!

"...But, since you're using it to keep the Archancellor away, and people are looking better than I have ever seen them..." He continued after a moments thought, "I'll let the fact slide. So, how many did you want? Two? Three, perhaps?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of roughly... Seventy."

DAY 11- 9.00AM: IN THE HOUSE

"I've just worked out how they do it," said Rincewind.

"Do what?"

"Fill the fridge. There's a little sliding panel in the back where they push it all through."

"Amazing. You learn something new everyday," said Vimes. He had picked up a random book which had been lying around.

"What've we got today?" asked Nobby. He was still in disgrace after the previous day's events.

"Erm, let me see... They've given us bacon... eggs... blackpuddings..."

"That sounds to me like the formula of a fry up!" said Ridcully, cheerfully.

"But... who can cook?" asked Rincewind.

A cheerful proclamation of "I can!" completely failed to be exclaimed. Silence reigned throughout the house.

"Don't look at me. I may be a woman but I only know how to make Fatsup," said Angua.

"Mistress Weatherwax?"

"Hmph. I know how to get by but I'm not pretending to be a 'Gormatt Chief'."

The Librarian knuckled his way forwards. "Ook."

"What, you?" asked Rincewind,

"Ook."

"You know how to cook?"

"Ook."

"There aren't any bananas, I'm afraid."

"Eek!"

"Well..." he said, wondering how long it would take for everyone else in the house to kill him for saying this. "Okay, go ahead."

"Make sure you get the hard crispy lumps in the chips," said Vimes, over the top of the book.

"Excuse me, Commander," said a voice causing him to look up. Vetinari was stood in front of him. "But I believe that is _my _novel which you are reading there."

"Oh, er," he said, wondering if losing his lordship's page was a hanging offence. "Well, just let me finish this chapter..."

"You have your own book to read, Mister Vimes," he said, placing a hand on top of it.

"I'm almost done."

"Vimes-"

"Sir-"

"Oh dear," said Carrot on the sidelines, watching as the two grown men pulled on the book like children. "I think it's got to him."

"Wasn't it _him _telling _us _not to bow down to the atmosphere of the place and go crazy?" questioned Angua.

With a gasp the book flew out of their hands and landed in the centre of the living room. Nobby picked it up and looked at the cover. "_'Whispered Kisses'?"_

"Erm... well," said Vimes, abashed. The Patrician's expression remained impassive, yet there was a tinge of colour rising in his cheeks.

"I never knew that you liked romance novels, sir," said Angua.

"Well, it makes a change to read about lives which aren't filled with criminals..." He had the curtesy not to look at Vetinari, as he was frankly ashamed of himself. Not about the contents of the book, but mostly about the knowledge of how he had acted in front of all Ankh-Morpork, and also who to. It would take a lot of arrests to wipe that out of people's minds, he knew. He mumbled something which sounded like a submissive apology.

"I shall file the experience under 'temporary insanity', Commander."

"Hey, it looks quite good, this," said Nobby, flicking through the pages.

DAY 11- 10.00AM: IN THE HOUSE

Breakfast was served.

They had to admit- it wasn't all too bad. They had searched for roughly half an hour each trying to find the hair on their plate, and when they didn't find it they didn't know wether to relax and eat or to continue looking with the fear of being caught out.

The only slight complaint concerned the glasses of pure banana juice. No one knew where he had got that from.

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING. PLEASE WILL CONTESTANTS ENTER THE LVING ROOM."

They'd been expecting this.

"What are you hoping for us to do this time?" asked Granny Weatherwax, loudly.

"Older Sibling wishes that you have a relaxed night tomorrow."

"But," said Vimes.

"But the task is that tomorrow night each of you sing a song which you feel most suits your character in a kareoke night."

There was silence as each of them reviewed how they really felt about their singing voices.

"Do not worry about the quality of sound," the voice continued. "Contestants will be marked on the overall act and choice of song. Angua, please enter the diary room."

The voice disappeared. Angua rose to her feet. "Well, I suppose I'd better go see what they want."

She entered the room. She didn't sit down and talk to Older Sibling privately, however. There was a large book left on the seat which she picked up and opened. After looking at a few pages she went out back into the living room.

"What was it?" asked Carrot.

"They've given us a huge book," she answered.

"Better hope it's a romance one, aye, Vimesy?" said Ridcully. Vimes shot him a look of pure venom.

"It's just filled with titles of different songs. There's a lot of choice." She turned to the back page. "Seventy songs, in fact."

"I never knew there were so many in the world," said Granny.

"We won't ever manage by looking through them all," said Vimes, inconsiderately throwing his finished cigar over his shoulder. "We'll just have to pick one and pray to the gods that it's there."

DAY 12- 3.45: IN THE HOUSE

Making sure that no one was around, Vimes carefully sneaked into the bathroom.

Carrot had somehow managed to fix the door, but the floor was still soaked and was threatening to be ruined.

He stood in front of the mirror, and stared at himself critically. His face was cleaner than he had ever seen it before, and there was not a sign that stubble had ever been there. This was because with days of nothing to do one catches up with the preening and washing which they have constantly been meaning to do. The Ankh-Morporkian public may think him vain, but what else was he supposed to do all day? Get into a fight with Ridcully just like they were expecting and wanting him to do? Either way, it didn't matter if they didn't think highly of him. The more votes he got, the better.

He looked outside again, just checking that no one was spying on him. Good. No one there, he could practice in privacy.

And because he completely forgot that of course there was an Eye hidden behind the mirror, all of Ankh-Morpork heard Vimes the Butcher sing the first line of his song.

He frowned to himself. Surely that was wrong. He didn't sound that bad, did he? Although he knew that your own voice sounds different to yourself than it does to other people, so that was some small comfort, at least.

Older Sibling had said that their voice didn't really matter. Yeah, right, of _course _it did- There were going to be hundreds of people watching. It was all right for everyone else. They could get drunk, at least.

He opened his mouth to try again when a sudden knock at the door made his heart skip a beat.

"_Nobby! That better not be you in there again, you've already been in there for ages!"_

"No, Angua, it's just me. I was..." His mind searched for a reasonable excuse. "...Shaving."

He opened the door, first checking to see that it was only her out there and not the entire house waiting to hear him make a fool of himself. He was fortunate.

"So what were you singing?" she asked.

"I, sing- ...You heard...?"

"No, no. But why else would you have cooped yourself up in there? If you shaved any more you'd be scraping away at your skin. Ridcully's practicing in the cupboard."

"Okay, so I _was _practising," he admitted. "I just feel it would be better to be a fool in front of myself before I'm a fool in front of all Ankh-Morpork."

She didn't have the heart to remind him that they'd all already had a taste of his performance. "I'm still at a loss of what I can sing."

"Blue Moon?" suggested Carrot, nearby.

DAY 12- 9.30PM: IN THE HOUSE

After confiding to Older Sibling in the diary room what they were going to sing, they had been forbidden to enter the living room and were locked in the largest bedroom as the area was set up.

It was quite unusual as they reentered. The chairs and sofa had been stacked away at the side, and the lights had been dimmed to a night-like blue glow. A large area had been cleared with a platform in the middle where they figured they were meant to sing, and a stash of beer bottles had been pointedly stashed on a large table, as if to suggest something. Nobby went towards them like a dog to a steak as soon as they were allowed back in.

"So who wants to sing first and get it over and done with?" asked Ridcully, making a show of how he could open a bottle with his teeth.

"I will," said Granny Weatherwax, surprising them all. "I don't know many songs, but they had this one and Gytha swears by it. Don't know what it means, mind..."

She climbed up onto the platform, and straightened her skirts. By listening carefully you could hear people fumbling behind the walls to get the music ready.

She began to sing The Hedgehog Song.

After the first verse Rincewind's jaw dropped. Angua came second. Ridcully tried to listen dutifully but couldn't help cringing at the occasional lyric.

Her voice was okay, and she didn't show the slightest sign of embarrassment, but...

Vimes winced slightly as he heard an interesting fact about hedgehogs which he felt he really didn't need to know, and turned to Carrot, expecting to see his face as a mask of horror. However, he received a small surprise to see him smiling, tapping his foot to the beat gently. _Of course..._ Vimes thought to himself. _He doesn't know what it means. He thinks it's just a cheerful little song about hedgehogs._

She finished only too late. Only three people applauded, Ridcully, Nobby and Carrot, who surpassed them all.

Angua sung next, and she did sing 'Blue Moon', as nothing else seemed to offer itself. She couldn't help thinking though that people wouldn't know what connection it held with her, as very few people did know about her condition. Despite having a small drink she was still naturally nervous. She was okay, but that was all which could be said. It wasn't much of a performance.

Rincewind got up next. "Erm, I just wanted to say that I didn't choose this song... the Archancellor suggested it because I couldn't..."

"Get on with it!" Nobby proclaimed.

Rincewind noticed that the Librarian had aquired a bag of peanuts and was now trying to correctly aim it at his left nostril if he didn't hurry up. He then sang a very hurried version of 'I get knocked down, I get back up again'. They couldn't tell wether he was deliberately using vibrato or if he was just shaking so much he couldn't help but sound like a sheep. Again, it was just okay.

Vimes had been expecting a chorus about Gold from Carrot, but he was actually quite good. He sang with great gusto.

"_Start spreading the news..."_

His voice was a little deeper than they had been expecting.

"_I'm leaving today..."_

Not a great voice, but it got the job done.

"_I want to be a part of it, in Ankh-Morpork..."_

"Who's going up after him?" asked Vimes quietly, hoping the answer wasn't what he thought it was.

"Me and the Librarian'll go up," said Ridcully.

"A duet?" asked Angua. "Is that allowed?"

"It should be, shouldn't it? He can hardly sing a song on his own, can he?"

"Ook!"

"Well, not a song we can all understand."

"Ook."

"_If I can... make it there, I'll make it... anywhere, it's up to you, Ankh-Morpork, Ankh-Morpoooooooooooooooork!"_

The Patrician clapped slightly as he climbed down. "Very patriotic, captain. Remind me to call on you when we're making our national anthem."

"Thankyou, sir," he answered, the tips of his ears gently turning red.

As much as Vimes hated to admit it, Ridcully's song was quite entertaining. The singing quality was terrible, but that point didn't really come into things much.

"_Who let the dogs out?" _

"Ook! Ook, ook ook!"

The favourite of the night though would probably have to have been Nobby. The voice was reasonable, but the thing which really took it was the choice of song.

"..._Life's not worth a damn, till you can say: I am what I am!"_

By the time he had finished there were tears in his eyes. Even Granny Weatherwax found herself sitting up to applaud.

"Well," said Vimes, "I guess it's me next."

He climbed onto the platform, feeling like an idiot. If all those criminals and people were watching this he might just have to barricade himself in his room for the rest of his life.

"_Rising up, out of the streets... Did my time took my chances..."_

It wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be, but considering how bad he _had _thought things were going to be this wasn't saying much.

"_Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet... Just a man and his will to survive..."_

The biggest consolation was that half of them were too drunk to take him in.

"It's the, Eye of the Tiger its the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of your rival..."

He knew that if Sybil was watching she would be laughing her head off.

"And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night..."

Somehow back at Pseudopolis Yard they had worked out a way to record this. He knew it.

"And he's watching us all with the Eye of the Tiger..."

Once he had done he leapt of the platform and back into his seat before the end of the song had even finished playing. Carrot clapped enthusiastically, again as he had done for all the other performances.

"Well," said Ridcully clasping his hands together. "Now that we've got all that over and done with, we can-"

But he had forgotten someone. Even as he was speaking the Patrician was stepping up onto the stage.

By far he had the best voice, which was surprising, although it would have been hard to imagine him being a _bad _singer. His face was vacant, yet the choice of song was clear.

"_I did it my... way."_

DAY 13- 5.30AM: IN THE HOUSE

"GOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGOODMORNING..."

Rincewind clasped a pillow around his ears.

"GOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGOODMORNING..."

Vimes sat up from his makeshift bed, watching as people wandered in, rubbing their eyes and yawning angrily.

"WHAT'S... GOING... ON?" shouted Carrot, in an attempt to be heard over the deafening noise.

"GOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGODDMORNING..."

"I... DON'T... KNOW!" shouted Angua in return.

The noise eventually died away.

"Wha' happened?" muttered Nobby, groggily.

"They've never woken us up like that before...

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING."

"I thought it would be," said Vimes.

"What is the meaning in waking us up at this time?" asked Granny Weatherwax, authoritatively. She was normally an early riser, yet they had all stayed up late the previous night.

"Last night you did not complete the task," Older Sibling announced.

"What do you mean?" asked Carrot. "We all sang, just as you sa-"

"Ridcully and the Librarian sung one song together. That was not acceptable. In punishment for not completing the task there shall be the 'Good Morning' wake up call every day at 5.30am for a week."

Ridcully felt a horde of accusative glares lying on him. He smiled, apologetically. Vimes mentally swore. He could have not sung and yet the outcome would still have been the same.

"Remember that today the Ankh-Morporkian public shall once again be voting on who is to leave the Older Sibling house. It shall be announced tomorrow in the afternoon. Good luck."

The voice silenced.

"It's mornings like these which make me glad I'm not a drinker," said Vimes.

"Well, I'll go do my job..." said the official high Coffee Maker.

* * *

Sorry, this vote is closed. The next one should be ready soon.

Please review!


	6. The Second Elimination

By the way, just thought I'd note that the littlenote about mirrors is true.

* * *

Blue sparkly paper, accompanied with ribbon, littered the normally perfectly tidy desk. It was completely spoiling the black and white theme of the room without any consideration at all.

Death spent a whole minute simply staring at his gift, but this was hard to tell due to the lack of passage of time in the area. Time and Death didn't really like to meet up much after work hours.

It appeared to be a mirror at first glance, complete with an attempt at a frame, yet for some reason it wasn't choosing to follow the fundamental rule being a mirror requires. Despite being held opposite his face it was showing nothing, and Death was quite sure that he would have known if he'd become invisible even to himself.

There was a shuffling and muttering sound which signalled that Albert was entering the room. He was carrying a tray, on which was balanced a teapot, sugar bowl and cup, all decorated with quaint little pictures of cats.

**I HAVE A BROKEN MIRROR, ALBERT.**

"That's seven years bad luck, sir."

**NO, **said Death, thoughtfully. **THAT IS SUPERSTITION CREATED ORIGINALY FROM PEOPLE WHO THINK THAT SHATTERING YOUR REFLECTION SHATTERS YOUR SOUL, AND THAT YOUR SOUL IS TAKEN AWAY AND RENEWED EVERY SEVEN YEARS. THIS IS NOT TRUE. I'M BUSY ENOUGH AS IT IS WITHOUT PEOPLE HAVING MORE THAN _ONE _SOUL.**

"Well, you know how it is. It only needs so many people to start believing in that for it to come true, nowadays."

**HMM. **Against all biological laws, he lifted the mug to his mouth and took a sip. **SUSAN SENT IT. WHAT SHOULD I DO, ALBERT?**

"Well if it doesn't work, send it back. No point in keeping it."

**I THOUGHT IT WAS RUDE TO SEND BACK GIFTS.**

"I thought it was rude to send broken ones," he said, leaving the room.

Death rested his head on his hand, still staring. It was really starting to irritate him. She was a sensible girl, why would she want to give him something so useless?

Perhaps it was one of those little puzzles where it only worked if you spun it around five times... No.

Perhaps if you slowly ran a finger down the side... No.

Naturally there must be a secret compartment... No.

Then a thought presented itself to him. New technology was everywhere nowadays, and people were finding it difficult to keep up with. However, he remembered a special, perhaps magical chant which was nearly always used with stubborn devices and nearly always worked. It was worth a try.

**FOR GODS' SAKE, JUST BLOODY WORK YOU DAMN STUPID THING!**

He bashed it against the table.

Then with a satisfied air about him, he looked into the piece of glass as a picture within it unfolded before him. People were sat in a room, talking, some of whom he recognised.

He leant back in the chair, watching with interest.

**DAY 14- 5.30 PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"True, Carrot, but if you think about-"

Angua was interrupted as the now familiar voice boomed throughout the house.

"PLEASE WILL CONTESTANTS ENTER THE LIVING ROOM."

"Good afternoon, Older Sibling," said Carrot.

"Good afternoon, you bastards," said Vimes similarly. "Why isn't Vetinari here?"

"I last saw him with a towel under his arm," said Rincewind, as he took his plate to the sink. "I think he's having a shower at the minute."

"Then let's just hope it's not him who's voted off."

Angua snorted into her macaroni.

"As you all know," said the Older sibling voice in a way which was suggesting it was trying to bring attention back to itself, "The Ankh-Morporkian public has been voting for who they want to leave the house."

Ridcully, who'd had a drink with his tea and was in a reasonably good mood, gave a little drum roll with his hands against the table.

"Nobby."

"Mm?" he said, looking up as he heard his name mentioned. He had been using the edge of a knife to clean out underneath his nails and hadn't been listening.

"Say goodbye to the Librarian, who will be the second contestant to leave the Older Sibling House. Librarian, you have thirty minutes to leave."

"Well, I suppose that's a relief, isn't it?" said Ridcully.

"What?" asked Nobby, still engrossed in the contents of his fingernails and wether they looked edible or not.

"Are you happy that you're not going even though it seemed like you were?"

"What?"

"...Never mind," Ridcully finished, reaching the conclusion that your average Watchmen must not be able to understand sentences which didn't mostly consist of grunting.

"Well, I think it's about time that we got that ape out of the house," said Granny Weatherwax. "Unsanitary. Not proper."

"Unsanitary?"said Rincewind, incredulously. "He had a shower every morning and night!"

"We know, we could tell with a single glance at the plug," said Angua.

"Where is the old chap, anyway?" said Ridcully.

They glanced around. They were quite certain that he had been there a moment ago, but the lack of his presence could not be denied.

"Perhaps he's upset about going," said Carrot with a shade of concern.

"He doesn't tend to get upset that much," said Rincewind. "He usually goes past that into the 'furious' area of things."

"Yes, furious along the lines of 'dangling you out of a window by your ankles' furious," Ridcully added. "Well, we'd better find him. Let's organize a search party!"

"...It's a house, Mustrum," Granny pointed out in an un-amused voice.

"...Yes, yes, I know, I was just trying to lay down the... gravity, of the situation. Yes."

"He'll probably just be sulking somewhere," said Rincewind after some thought.

"Okay," said Ridcully rubbing his hands together, apparently quite thrilled by the little adventure he was organising. "Carrot, you take the west side. Vimes-"

"Do we have to find him?" he asked in a careless manner. "If he refuses to leave they might have to ask someone else to instead."

"Oh, come now," he answered irritably. "This is where you belong, isn't it? Hunting people down? Following clues..."

Vimes couldn't help but visualize Ridcully wearing a deer stalker hat, tentatively examining a moulding banana peel with a magnifying glass.

"We have thirty minutes to find him."

"And persuade him to cooperate," Angua added.

"Thirty minutes to find and persuade him to cooperate," Ridcully agreed. "Let's go."

**DAY FOURTEEN- 5.40 PM: IN THE HOUSE**

After ten minutes had passed, which seemed to be a suitable amount of time, Angua went into the girls bedroom and looked inside the top compartment of the wardrobe. After nudging a cardboard box to the side she saw a pair of eyes staring out at her from behind.

"How did he fit in there?" Carrot mused to himself once they were all introduced to the problem.

"The more pressing question- How do we get him out?" said Vimes. "Anyone offering to venture a hand in there?"

No one answered, as it seemed everyone liked their hands where they were- firmly attached to their wrists.

"I know something that will work," said Ridcully, smiling.

"What?"

"Well, Vimes, all you have to do is say..." He leant over and whispered something in his ear. Rincewind realised what was going to happen and inadvertently exited the room.

Vimes looked thoughtful as Ridcully straightened up again before taking a step back. "I see... But won't he be upset if he finds out you wanted me to call him a monkey, Ridcully?"

**DAY 14- 6.00PM**

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Go out there and act like everything's fine."

"How? They're expecting him to come out of the house!"

"Well if you don't tell them _something _then there are going to be mobs of them trying to get _into _the house."

Susan sighed. Only stopping to pause at a mirror while she put on her biggest, brightest and most sickly smile, she ran out onto the stage.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she exclaimed again, as there seemed nothing better to open the night with. If it's not broke, why fix it.

"I know you're all expecting the Librarian to come out-"

A mixture of boos, cheers and scream met this.

"But unfortunately, we met a little bit of a problem a while ago..." She gestured furiously at the people waiting out of view behind the stage to show what happened.

Projected onto the screen behind her was a huge image of the Librarian attempting to turn Ridcully into an origami knot, while people surrounding did nothing much to help, not wanting to channel the chaos onto themselves. It then flickered away and died just as a few worried behind-the-scenes workers ran in to intervene.

"That's our Librarian! He may spend all of his time around books, but he just had to go out with a bang!"

Another cheer. They would have cheered even if she announced that they were all a bunch of brainless infidels, which had popped up in her head more times than could be counted.

"So, who's going to go next? Quiet Rincewind, uptight Weatherwax, pretty Angua,happy Carrot, angry Vimes, poor Ridcully, mischievous Nobby or the Patrician who now we all _know _is a romance freak? I don't know, because it's up to you! Thankyou everyone, and goodnight!"

* * *

A voter pointed out that I was writing mostly from Vimes' point of view. Sorry about that, it's just that I'm still trying to make it an interesting read and to do this I write about the character I know and like the most. You can still vote for him if you want. 

Don't vote now, though. Wait 'til the end of the next chapter.

Please review!


	7. Week 3: Mysteries and Madness

Ahem. I know it may have been a while (dodges thrown tomato which splatters overhead) ... but I've been, er... busy. Yeah, that'll do, I've been very busy. Very. Yeah. Mm.

I have to say that there would have probably been an even _huger _gap if it had not been for Count Lucifer sending me threatening reviews... Hah, just kidding. Everyone needs a kick up the butt occasionally to get them moving.

Since I got so many votes in reviews... I'm just gonna say To Hell With It. Vote anyway you like. Review, email... whatever. I just thought that people would prefer it not being able to see who's going out simply by looking at the reviews.

* * *

**DAY 15- 5.15AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Vimes? Mister Vimes? Wake up please, sir..."

Vimes shifted, sleepily. It was that early time in the morning where you're not sure if you're still dreaming or awake, and due to your brain being in a partially shut down state you're afraid to say anything because it will almost undoubtedly be stupid. To combat this he kept his eyes closed.

"Vimes, please wake up."

He groaned silently, and lifted his head from the floor. It was still dark, but he could see the shape of a woman crouching over him. He jumped slightly.

"Angua," he murmurred through a motionless mouth. "What are you doing...?"

Wether she understood or not, she recieved the message. "Sir, I have to speak to you. No one else in the house knows apart from Carrot, and he might get worried."

_Oh. So it's about that, is it. Who says _I'm _not worried? _"What is it?" he asked, regardless.

"It's the full moon soon. I don't know when, I haven't had chance to check, but I can feel it. I... I don't know what to do."

"Mm... Just let go and be done with it..." Despite being led on the floor, the pillow beneath his head was very, very comfy. It would be so nice just to-

"Sir, you know I can't do that! As well as it being... bad for _me, _there's also the thing about us having an upper hand against the criminals of Ankh-Morpork since they don't know."

"Mmf. Don't... Don't..." He yawned, only making Angua angrier as he didn't seem to grasp the urgency of the situation. At the moment though, if given the choice he would even give in his badge if it meant he could lie back down again. When the body's tired it gains control over the brain, rather than the other way around. "Don't worry Angua. I'll think of something."

"But-"

"Something, Angua. Just not right now."

"GOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGOODMORNING-"

"God, I HATE this place!" bellowed Vimes through his sleepiness, his voice even heard above the good morning alarm.

"Well..." said Carrot, rising from his seat and rubbing his eyes. "At least we get a bright and early start to the da-"

"Carrot?"

"Yes sir?"

_"Shut up_."

**DAY 16- 11.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vetinari surveyed the house, silently. Something most interesting was coming over everyone in the house. It seemed the madness had finally got them all, enveloping them.

Rincewind seemed to be taking the place which the Bursar had formerly occupied. Early morning wake up calls and lack of square meals cooked by the Librarian were showing on his face, as he was sporting two huge bags under his eyes giving the impression that someone had punched him in the face twice. Ridcully was even stranger. After making a little crown for himself out of what looked like the pages from 'Whispered Kisses', he had stood on top of a chair set on the kitchen table, refusing to come down and actually _screaming _at Vimes if he should happen to pass. However, for wizards these actions weren't too much to be concerned about.

No, Vetinari was more interested in the actions of the Watchmen. Carrot was not his usual self at all, sitting more on his own than with other people, and staring intently at anyone who brought up a subject close to 'food'. Angua was constantly next to the window, looking extremely jittery and glancing out every few seconds. Vetinari knew what this was about. Vimes, on the other hand, puzzled him slightly. He was acting like himself, but a little _too _much. His one cigar was stretched to the length of a day, and if you watched him closely it looked like he was chewing the remnants, savouring the flavour. He too seemed very suspicous about food, watching anyone who went to the fridge.Vetinari reasoned that he must have found some form of a crime to keep himself occupied with, despite how small.

Nobby had dissapeared completely.

However, the one that caught his eye most of all people for their actions, was Esmerelda Weatherwax.

She had never been one to sit with the rest of the group, giving the impression that somehow she thought herself to be above them all in some way. Now all she ever did was sit on the settee, looking quite comfortable, and when she wasn't doing this, she was being her average self, which on the whole wasn't all too much different.

Vetinrai could feel the atmosphere of the place. It was contageous, and it was admittedly hard enough even for himself not to put his underpants on his head and sing 'Ankh-Morpork, Ankh-Morpork' whilst doing a jig. How she could withstand it he was afraid to admit he had no idea.

"Oh, the Grand Duke of Sto-lat..." began Rincewind. "He had ten thousand men..."

"Someone SHUT HIM UP!" bellowed Vimes. He was doing this a lot recently.

"I can't, I might end up killing him," muttered Angua, darkly.

"He marched them up to the top of the hill, and he marched them down again!" proclaimed Rincewind, a huge grin smothering his face. Over the past few days he had overcome his fear of being the centre of attention- now he thrived on it.

"Back in my day we had dried frog pills to sort this thing out!" Ridcully announced.

"And when they were up they were up..." Rincewind continued, jogging to one side of the room joyfully.

"Frog pills? What are they, then?"

"Well, they're little pills, and you hide them in a person's food-"

"What about food?" shouted Carrot, oblivious to the fact that people had long ago stopped paying attention to him. "No one's taking any food! It's all there! Check! Look!" He swung the fridge open. "Food's there! See! Look, food!"

"And when they were down they were down..." The wizard continued back towards the other side. His eyes were a little too wide for him to look sane.

"I can't take this much longer. Why did they have to take my truncheon away before I came in?" asked Vimes. He sounded like a desperate man.

"Now now, it wouldn't be nice to smash everyone's brains in, sir," said Angua, quietly.

"Killing _other _people? No. You might have noticed, but I'm not in a charitable mood at the minute, Angua."

"And when they were only half way up-"

He stopped.

"What?" said Vimes. "Go on, tell us what! You've been drumming the song into our heads so you might as well tell us where they were when they were only half way up!"

At this, Rincewind folded his arms and turned away, haughtily. "You weren't interested a minuite ago. I'm not telling you."

"Just tell us."

"Shan't."

"Just TELL us, you bloody, bloody... _wizard!"_

Ridcully's mouth dropped open. At last, a chance to show his worth and powerfull qualities over Vimes had presented itself. "How _dare _you! How dare an uneducated imbecile such as yourself use the word wizard as if it were an insult! You are a wizoginist!"

"Yes, I bloody well am!" answered Vimes, not caring to ask what a 'wizoginist' was. It sounded like a very new word, so new in fact that no one had ever used it before Ridcully uttered it, but nonetheless he didn't want to give him any opportunities to get one up.

Ridcully leapt down from the table, readjusting his make-shift crown slightly so that it was at a jaunty angle around his hat. He also cast a quick hopefull glance at Granny Weatherwax before he proceeded, but she was apparently asleep on the settee. He shrugged. "Ever since I have entered this house I have put up with you, Watchman. All your irritating habits, like not wiping up the properly when it's your turn to do the dishes, and leaving the top off the butter," There was a mild squeak-like sound from Carrot which no one noticed. "And everywhere I can't help but see little discarded yet thoroughly chewed remnants of soggy cigar!"

Despite sides, there was mutual agreement on this one.

"That may be true_, wizard_, but I've had to resist throttling you during the night due to you waltzing around every hour of every day as if you're the leader of us all and we should all 'jolly well' accept it like 'good chaps'!"

Vimes half expected Vetinari to sweep in at this moment. It was his usual style. Allow the situation to get pleasingly out of hand while eating a metaphorical box of banged grains on the side lines, but as things ventured _just across the line of no return _he would calm the feud like a Messiah over a storm. However, he didn't come. He momentarilly seemed enraptured by the actions of a small fly hovering around the top of the room.

"I am only taking the role which belongs to me, asinine!"

"Wizard!"

"Asinine!"

"Wizard!"

"Asinine!"

Angua sighed as the two steadily becoming pointless insults merged into one other. She looked and felt on the verge of tears. Not because of the constant madness and bickering, although this was a fair contributor. The main reason was that if Vimes was going to spend all his time getting into endless quarrels it didn't seem like he was going to have much time to think of how to help her. There was always Carrot left, but somehow she felt he looked like he was in an even worse state than her.

"Wizard!"

"Asinine!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" shouted Rincewind, rushing between the two of them. Amazingly, he seemed quite unfazed by their glares. A lesser- or perhaps more sane man, would be lying on the floor in a fetal position due to being caught in the concentrated hatred. Rincewind just smiled. "I've decided to tell you after all. Ahem. And when they were only half way up... They were neither up or down!"

It was close. Vimes' fist came _very close _to hitting one of them- either would satisfy immensely. The only thing which stopped him was the image of Dibbler, floating through his mind, a grin spreading wider across his face as Vimes' knuckles inched closer to their noses. Before he had chance to do anything more he literally dragged himself away from temptation and strode out of the room and out into the garden. There was a large splashing sound, which largely resembled that which might be made by a man leaping into a swimming pool for no apparent reason.

The next morning a lot of T-Shirts were sold, virtually all bearing the slogan **Mad! They've All Gone Mad! Hooray!**

**DAY 16- 2.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Things were slowly becoming relatively calm again. Madness can only reign for so long- it takes up a lot of energy and is hard to participate in unless you're a professional. AKA the Bursar.

Angua was trying to do something constructive, literally. Ever since the 'River' incident, the bathroom door hadn't been quite up to scratch, which had only increased annoyance. She had decided to get Carrot to help her fix it, as a little manual labour was nothing in comparrison to one of Granny Weatherwax's decency rants.

"They had a lot of insight to provide us with screwdrivers," muttered Angua.

Carrot was fiddling with a screw. Strong Watchman he may have been, but the mastery of DIY was something beyond him. "I'm not sure if I'm doing it right, it won't go in. I'm not sure if I'm putting it in the right hole."

There was a small nondescript snigger.

"Just jam it in any old way as hard as you can- that should do the trick."

Another undectable sound of small glee.

Vimes and Ridcully were decidedly not speaking to one and other, making eye contact or doing any action which might suggest aknowldgement that the other existed. Ridcully acted in a fashion which was perhaps just a little too ordinary, whileVimes just sat glaring at the floor- a towel slung over his shoulders. He sneezed.

Vetinari was sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. He _longed _for a newspaper, or at least some infomation about the outside world. He had never felt anything like it before. People out there knew more about what was going on than he did, and in a strange way it pained him. He needed knowledge.

And there was a fly, circling nonchalantly a few feet above his head.

With lightning speed and acute precision his hand shot upwards, grasping the insect but with great care as to not crush it. He brought it down to his eye level and stared at it.

"I have you," he said, softly. No one else heard it. They didn't need to.

His hand opened, and almost as soon as it had done Granny Weatherwex appeared by his side.

"So you know, then," she said.

"Yes, I do know, Mistress Weatherwax. Or at least I do now. I had never seen such a small creature able to stare at a person so intently. I was also curious to know how you, of all of us, managed to retain so much sanity."

She seemed uncomfortable. He was the ruler of the city, after all. If he claimed that she had broken the rules then that would probably be it.

"However," he continued, "I'm certain that I have heard on an earlier occasion, that when presented with great levels of stress it is only _wise _to let one's mind wander, to see it all from the outside. I am merely impressed that you managed to carry this out to such an extent." He gave her a very small smile. If you didn't have a reason to know it was there you wouldn't have seen it. She returned a similar one, which merely suggested mild approval.

"I think I've worked out the problem, Angua," said Carrot. "Either the screw's too big, or the hole's to small."

"Well, we'll just have to try another hole. And can you stop sniggering?" she said, causing Carrot to look quite bewildered.

**DAY 17- 6.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout..."

"So what _is _the stick and bucket dance?" asked Angua.

"From what I've heard it's lethal," said Vimes.

"It's a Morris Dance," said Granny Weatherwax. "The men at Lancre used to do it every year, until Monty passed away. After that they decided enough was enough."

"Either way, the important thing is we have two days to learn it," said Ridcully.

This had not been good news from Older sibling that morning. Everyone apart from Granny only had a few tales on which to base their knowledge of the dance on, but it was known that it was a powerful act which took great stamina, skill and even trust. After taking a brief look again at the participants Vimes had a subtle belief that Dibbler truly was trying to do away with them.

"How many of us have to take part?" asked Carrot.

"All of us," said Ridcully. Vimes suddenly had a laughing fit in the background.

"Well, at least _someone's _not going to have a problem with this," said Angua, gesturing towards Rincewind who was doing a very slow pirouette. "He hasn't stopped dancing ever since he informed us about a certain Duke of Sto-Lat yesterday."

"I'm past that now. Ballet is a fine art..."

"Should I leave my boots and helmet to Young Sam, do you think?" asked Vimes, contemplatively.

**DAY 18- 1.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Spin round, seven eight, round and round and round, jump!"

The sticks clashed together.

"No, no, no!"exclaimed Ridcully. "Carrot, you're off! Completely off the beat-"

"There isn't a beat though," he said, panting. "It changes every time, there isn't a pattern..."

"The problem, Ridcully," said Vimes, "Is that you're the one with the worst sense of rhythm out of all of us, and you're the one shouting 'left right, seven eight'."

Ridcully glared at him for a few seconds. They had been very cool with each other after the arguement, and this had been the first line said between them since then apart from 'pass the beans, please'. "Well, Vimes, if you have such a problem with my way of doing things perhaps _you _should be the one who sees how hard it is."

"Nah," said Vimes, shaking his head. "We need something else." He cast his mind for a second, before his eyes fell on a certain figure sat by the side. An grim, evil little smile set upon his face. "My lord," he said. "Do you have any musical talent?"

Vetinari glanced up at him with a bemused expression on his face, as if he didn't understand the words when structured that way. "Pardon, your grace?" A large accordian landed at his feet.

"Someone must have told Dibbler about your little episode in Klatch to know to supply that- I heard you made one hell of a muscisian."

"If my memory serves me I was in fact a juggler."

Vimes shrugged. "Same thing."

Angua heard a chord being struck just before she closed the bathroom door behind her. The door was fixed again after many treachorous double-entendres, and so she could finally have a wash. She needed to be careful though- Vimes had given her a thorough warning about Dibbler's desires for having a young woman on the show, and Carrot had given an even thorougher(1) one later. For some reason his faith in Older Sibling had really drooped recently.

The bath was over at the other side of the room, apparently out of view,but she couldn't be certain that the only Eye in the room was behind the mirror. That might be just what they wanted her to think.

Despite the risk, she needed a bath. Along with other obvious issues she felt it might help calm her nerves a little.

To make sure that she would be completely hidden from sight she clambered into the bath, still with a towel wrapped around her, and laid another one on top of her other the sides of the bath. Yes, when put like that it covered her completely- she could get out and put the water in now.

...Or at least she would have done, if upon sitting down in the bath she hadn't fallen down a huge hole.

"Aaaaagh- oof!"

"Augh! Oh, hello miss Angua."

"Nobby?" she exclaimed, despite the darkness underground rechecking that she was thoroughly covered. "What... What the hell are you doing here?"

"Escapin', miss."

"Escaping?" Through the floor of the bath. Hidden in the corner where it seemed they really _hadn't _put an eye watching. It was actually very kind of them. And on retrospection, very... very... dumb.

It was actually quite a genius plan. After all, who would look for Nobby in the _bath? _"But don't you get hungry? Thirsty, even?"

"Ah," he said, knowledgably. "I climb out in the night to grab some food. I made a ladder, see."

She looked. At random intervals what looked like each contestant's book had been jammed in to make a small step. Well, at least that solved one mystery. "This is all very well and good, Nobby, but there are three problems. One- We need you for this Morris dance task we have to do, two- Some of us need baths, and three- surely _someone in the outside world _is going to notice that upon entering the bathroom about three days ago you haven't yet left."

* * *

(1)It's not in the dictionary, but it should be.

* * *

**DAY 19- 8.15PM: IN THE HOUSE**

There was a plan.

The seven of them stood in a small cricle with their backs facing the middle, six holding their sticks out ready, one with an accordian poised. In the end after climbing out of the bath, even dirtier than when she had originally climbed in, Angua had told the others very quietly about Nobby's current location. However, everyone had agreed that it was best he remained where he was and didn't join them. He hadn't had any practice and it was a dangerous dance even for a Morris Master, and after all, he wasn't tall enough.Only a very long stick would have enabled him to clash his together with the others. Besides, it didn't seem anyone had noticed his lack of presence after all.

"Alright," Ridcully was saying. "Alright. Well, we may not have had much time to practice-"

"We had _no _time to practice after you got drunk and attacked anyone who mentioned dance with the sticks," muttered Granny Weatherwax out of the corner if her mouth. She seemed to be the most mispleased out of all of them about the task, but this was not an unusual occurence.

"Ready everyone?" said Carrot, who after another arguement between Vimes and Ridcully had become cheif 'left-right' announcer.

"No," said Granny.

"Okay. One... two... three!"

Clash!

"Left, right, left, right, round and round and round we go, up down, left right, five six seven eight! Jump!"

Clash!

The Older Sibling announcer had been very awkward when it came to the instructions. Following the old tradition you were meant to dance and dance until each and every participant fell down- exhausted or dead. So to ensure that they did the dance to their full potential they hadn't been _told _how long to do it for. Afterwards it would be anounced wether they did it for long enough or not. If they were still breathing, that is.

"Rincewind, through the middle, five six seven eight!"

As they spun around Vimes kept his eyes on the prize. A mirror, shining in and out of vision as he felt like he was going to black out. However, he had a job to do.

"Spin around, spin around, one-two, Vimes it's you, NOW-"

SMASH! He quickly withdraw his stick from the shards of mirror, and reassuring sounds of hubbub coming from within the walls suggested that it was working. The Eye was in ruins.

"There we go, left right, Angua it's time foryou, NOW-"

SMASH!

"Yes, yes, twist and spin, over to the living room..."

Tears were now running down Angua's cheeks, but her face was fixed with determination. Ridcully's hat had fallen off a few minutes ago, and Granny Weatherwax's tight bun was slowly undoing itself.

"Spin around, up and down," Carrot's voice now mainly consisted of short gasps. "Round and round, Rincewind go, NOW!"

SMASH!

"When... does this... bloody thing... finish...?" whispered Vimes.

"When... you... collapse..." Angua answered.

"Oh... shit."

Still spinning, still following some form of rhythm, they went on into the kitchen.

"Through the middle, round and round, one two three NOW-"

They continued with vague success for another twenty minutes which seemed like the entire span of time from start to finish. That was when Rincewind collapsed.

"Keep in, keep in, got to keep the rhythm up, NOW-"

It was very hard not to trod on the wizard as they spun around. It was even harder not to kick him.

"My... chest..." wheezed Vimes.

"Keep it up, sir, _keep it up," _said Angua.

"I... can't..."

He collapsed on the floor.

"Ah crap," she muttered.

Only a few seconds after Ridcully dropped out too. He too was puffing but he had a very superior look about himself. Vimes scowled.

It was just Carrot, Angua, Granny Weatherwax and the Patrician now. The music was slowly getting more and more haggard, and the strain was showing slightly on his face.

"Just a bit, three four, keep it up, keep it up, Now-"

SMASH.

Granny Weatherwax sat down in the nearest chair as soon as she passed one.

"Keep up... keep up... one two, keep it up, three four, now...

Smash.

Vetinari sat down on the floor, the accordian discarded. He ran a thumb and finger over his eyes, taking in deep breaths through his nose.

There was just the two of them left now- as long as there was more than one it still counted. Carrot was still drumming out the beat with his voice, ignoring the lack of music. Angua was following the commands it seemed automatically. Her eyes were closed as if she was residing within her Happy Place.

"One two... three four... spin around way around, now..."

Smash...

Angua didn't drop down. It would be more to say that she toppled backwards. It didn't seem to matter anymore as long as she didn't have to swing around that infernal stick another second.

Carrot seemed oblivious to the fact that he was alone. He continued, talking to himself now, as he went slowly spinning out into the garden.

"Should we tell him?" asked Vimes.

Vetinari watched the man for a few seconds longer. "No. Leave the captain as he is for now- Young people need more exercise nowadays."

They all stared at him.

"And it also means we can mention the word 'bread' without him constantly flinching," he finished, rising to his feet and walking away.

God, he really is a bastard, thought Vimes.

**DAY 20- 7.25PM**

For a moment, Dibbler thought it was all going to be over.

The wizard had told him that Omniscopes were rare, which naturally meant they were expensive. After they'd all been smashed like that, the only options left were to spend all the money he'd made to buy a new one, or he could just quit there and then, sending the contestants home in disgrace. He'd considered just cutting a few of the workers' paychecks, but there weren't enough workers in the business.

And then, as if a helping handfrom an angel had reached down while he was falling, a solution was presented.

It was annonymous, but the note attached to the _dozen _full omniscopes that had been sent, signalled that it was just a gift from a die hard fan. He tried to trace the handwriting, but judging by how crisp and precise the writing had been he decided it must have been done by one of those new portable printing presses.

But who cared who sent it? They could be an idiot and send him expensive equipment as much as they liked. It also showed that the viewers _cared. _A great deal, by the looks of it.

After banishing the contestants to one of the bedrooms he had all the new Eyes set in, more of them now ensuring that nowhere was hidden. This he had thought of to be a little punishment.

Another blessing had sprung out of the misfortune- while setting dozens of cameras, covering the bath also now, a suprised employee had discovered an incredibly filthy Nobby. Not the most pleasant of sights for a young man, but the fact that a tunnel was found with him made it all worth while. This was hastily fixed.

Things were working again.

**DAY 20- 7.30PM**

**I HOPE HE APPRECIATES IT. **

"I daresay he won't," muttered Albert, carrying away a dozen empty banged grain and pizza boxes.

**DAY 20- 7.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Is it just me," said Ridcully, "Or do you get the impression we're in the bad books?"

"Why should we be?" asked Nobby.

"Well if you'd have been out of your little hole for the past few days you might have _known," _snapped Vimes. He wasn't about to pretend he wasn't jealous of a few privacy breachless days.

"So did we win the dance thing?" asked Nobby as if he hadn't heard a thing.

"They said that we did," said Angua. She was sat next to the window again, he knees under her chin. "They'd only expected us to last two minutes, apparently.

"Hah," said Vimes. It wasn't a happy laugh.

"That's good. So what did we win?"

Angua smiled. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing as punishment for what we did. They said that we were originally going to get some amazing prize for doing it. An elephant each, I think it was."

"I saw an elephant once," said Granny Weatherwax.

"I bet you did," Vimes muttered.

"This is Older Sibling."

"The voice of doom, right on cue," Vimes continued. "Through which Dibbler rubs in the fact that we are now all one elephant short."

"I wasn't going to say that," the voice replied, a little indignantly. "Ahem. I'm reminding you that tonight the Ankh-Morporkian public shall be voting on which of you is to leave the Older Sibling House."

"Joy," said the Patrician.

"You shall be given the results tomorrow afternoon. Good luck."

* * *

Well. At long last again, it is time to vote! So... email, review, it doesn't really matter anymore, as long as it's done. 

As you've probably discovered, I am not the quickest of updaters, but I'm not lying when I say it'll take a longer or shorter time depending on the amount of votes I get.

I've finally got a bit ofdiscworld art up on my Elfwood account. Take a look- the link's in my bio.


	8. The Third Elimination

My God, what's coming over me? I've actually updated after only a reasonably short time since the last one!

We must repent our sins!

**

* * *

**

**DAY 21- 8.30PM**

"...I... I can't be doing with this..."

Commander Colon shut the door behind him, with the air of one who would be happy to never see it open again. He then slumped down onto a chair next to Commander Visit, who was trying to carve himself a new turtle pendant out of a potato. His previous one had been stolen, but owing to recent times this was nothing special.

"Good day?" asked Commander Shoe bleakly, attempting to carry six mugs of coffee with one hand. This was because his other one had been stolen.

"Guess," murmurred Colon. "It's a poor do, that just because a few Watchmen go the whole thing falls to pieces."

Commander Detritus dismissed the offered coffee before directing his entire concentration back to piece of paper lying on a desk before him. He had been staring at it for twenty whole minutes now, and hadn't managed to bring himself to picking up the pen for it yet. It was too hot a day for paperwork.

"I mean, the bloke runs down an alley with her purse. I follow, but by the time I get there he's gone. What am I supposed to do? _I _certainly can't sniff him out."

"Or catch him," muttered Commander Shoe.

"I just hope that Commander Vimes comes back soon..." said Commander Visit sadly, as he had just accidentally cut the turtle's head off. "I think it's wrong that _everyone _has been put into a seat of great power. Om teaches us that it is wrong for one to rise above their station and not be content with the happy life they have already been given-"

"Well what else do you suggest? We shove the entire job onto a single poor soul?" asked Commander Colon, as Commander Detritus furiously scrunched up the paper in his huge fist. "It's too big for one person. All of us together nearly get it just about right." This was a lie and he knew it. All the men in the Watch together could not fill the place Vimes had made as Commander, but he felt that if he didn't do something the job would automatically go to him again, due to being the most senior watchman for miles. It would be better that Ankh-Morpork's order turned to ashes before that happened again.

"...Hey, Visit," he said, eventually.

Commander Visit looked up, halfway through crunching his turtle. "Yes sar- Commander?"

"You like that Older Sibling stuff, don't you."

Visit swallowed. This was true. In fact he _adored _the show- he spent all his money on going to see it, even when it was just the live version and not the special selected parts later at night. He had checked thoroughly through the sciptures to see if there was anything against such a devotion, but despite having not found any specific instructions he subtly expected that there still was."A little."

"How much does it cost to vote?"

"Half a dollar per vote, as many votes as you like, all money goes to feeding starving millions in Howonderland," he quoted, perhaps a little too precisely. "Er... Why do you ask?"

"Right, lads. Commander Shoe- Fetch the petty cash." Without a certain someone stealing it every other second it had risen to a considerable amount.

**DAY 21- 8.45PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"You know that you've been deprived from happiness for too long when you find yourself ecstatic about _not _being awoken during the middle of the night just to lose."

"You said it, Angua."

"This is... Older Sibling... Sibling..." said Rincewind quietly to himself. "This... Older... Sibling... This is..."

"How long do you think he's going to be doing that for?" asked Carrot.

"I don't know, but I feel extremely sorry for him," said Ridcully. He placed two hands on the wizards shoulders and shook him violently. "RINCEWIND! RINCEWIND, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" He leant closer to his ear. "SNAP OUT OF IT!"

The wizard didn't react to this much, or at least not in the intended manner. He simply sat completely still and looked like he was crying without tears.

Ridcully shook his head. "Nope, not a sign of life. There must be something _really _wrong with him, poor chap."

"This is Older Sibling."

No one responded. What was there to say? Vimes had said 'Oh Gods' so much he felt it had lost it's dramatic value. Carrot's head just drooped a little lower, the Patrician's eyes narrowed a little further, and Rincewind shuddered.

"After voting, it has been decided that the next person to leave the Older Sibling House, will... be..."

Dramatic pause, as usual. They couldn't help noticing that it got longer every time, probably because every second drawn out equaled a thousand more dollars..

"...Vimes."

"YES!"

He actually leapt from his seat. He zoomed around the room as if there were wings on his feet. He grabbed a pillow from behind him and threw it into the air. He spun around and knocked Ridcully's hat off his head for no other reason than he felt like it. He was just finishing his second cartwheel when he heard someone sniggering. "What. What is it now? What _now?"_

"I'm afraid, Commander, that in your desperation to hear your own name you did not notice the voice which was saying it," said Vetinari. He then smiled, a smile which was unusually not at all subtle for him. "I couldn't resist."

"I never knew that you could cartwheel, sir," said Angua, conversationally.

He shrank back into his chair, aware that eyes were on him. Hundreds, in fact. "...Okay," he said quietly. "So who _is _the lucky bastard?"

"...Nobby."

His actions were quite different from Vimes', yet they were just as outrageuos, if not more so. He simply walked into the room from the bedroom, apparently waiting as if he had _known _that it was his turn to go. As was normal for those leaving, he had put on his best clothes ready to leave. But these clothes...

"Nobby," said Angua, apparantly only able to manage this one word without serious thoughts on how to structure her next sentence. "..._Why _on _earth-"_

"I thought it'd be interesting if I went out in disguise."

"Yes, yes, that's understandable," said Ridcully, "But _why _are you wearing a _dress, _good man?"

"I just thought it'd be memorable. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" he asked, haughtily.

"Well, no, but-"

"Fine then."

They had to admit, it was a _good _dress. It shimmered so much it looked like it was made entirely of sequins, and somehow he had even managed to aquire a pair of silk gloves. The wig he was wearing appeared to be the one Rincewind had needed to wear during the pantomime- Long golden ringlets fell past his shoulders. It was a wig which would have overwhelmed even a greater man.

"But, er, between you and me..." he said, more quietly, and turned around. "Do you think it makes my butt look big?"

**DAY 21- 10.50**

It took a long time before Nobby managed to get back to Pseudopolis Yard. As soon as he had exited the Older Sibling House the girl who kept screaming al the time (probably more from shock this time opposed to happiness) had immedietly shoved him into a swarm of Times reporters. A few of them he felt were still probably hanging around trying to jump out on him whenever he least expected it so that they could find out from him who, in the House, in fact, was gay. He also couldn't help noticing the same guy following him, the guy who blushed and turned away whenever Nobby actually turned to look at him. He was probably just your average weirdo.

The squad of Commanders hadn't waited to see who was voted out. They had considered paying to watch it live, but paying to get in would have wasted good voting money. Besides, they figured that after all the voting they'd done, who was leaving was pretty much decided. They were all ready and waiting back at Pseudopolis yard- All apart from Visit, that is, who's shoe lace had oddly untied itself just before they were about to leave the moving pictures hall. He had told them to go on and he would catch up, but something must have detained him, they decided.

"Ah, well," said Colon, rubbing his hands together. He suddenly seemed a lot more cheerfull. "It'll be doing everyone good, what we've done. Vimes'll be happy because he gets to leave- I heard he was pretty miserable in there, and the city'll be happy because there will be much less crimes-"

"Or at least the law abiding percentage of the city'll be happy," added Shoe.

"Not much," muttered Detritus.

"...Whatever. It's the law abiding part which counts-"

"But the point about the law abaiding part is that they don't kick up a fuss when they're not happy," said Shoe. "It's the good tempermentally challenged ones who tend to throw bricks through the window."

"_Quiet," _said Colon, not about tolet a slight valid point to ruin his moment of happiness. "At least _we'll _be happy because we won't be having to keep up this bloody 'Everyone's a Commander' game."

"I don't know, I'd already had fifty Commander badges ordered to be brought for Monday-"

_"Shut - up - Reg!" _Colon stressed again. "It's been done. Alright? It's been done. Any moment now, one of our Watchmen is going to be walking through that door, and that'll be the end of that."

He folded his arms and began to stare determinedly at the door, willing it to open.

It finally did.

"Oh... _bollocks_."

* * *

Thanks for all the votes! Even though you can't vote anyone out at the minute, still, please review! 


	9. Week 4 Part 1: The outside world

I've changed my description of the story. Anyone noticed? Please tell me which you think was better.

Decided to split this week into two parts. Why? A) Because it's already longer than a full week, and B) You'll find out soon enough...

* * *

DAY 22- 8.30AM: IN THE HOUSE

"I have to say, ever since Nobby left the air has been quite cleaner," said Rincewind. He was looking a lot better after last night's sleep, and was sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of herbal tea Angua had made for him. It tasted like diluted excrement, but he naturally hadn't said this and was sipping it dutifully. He secretly quite liked Angua.

"Mm, I agree. Now all we have to do is wait 'till Ridcully goes and inhaling will no longer be a survival test," said Vimes.

"_What?"_

"Oh, come on. You could make a banquet out of the food stuck in your beard. Just go have a shower and stop being worried that someone might see your nob."

There was a slight pause. It was not often that such abrupt vulgarness was brought up over the breakfast table, but Vimes didn't care anymore. Dibbler wanted loud, bold and in your face, and so he would get it.

"If you don't mind, _Commander," _spat Ridcully, "It is better to be slightly tarnished, opposed to constantly preening oneself in the manner that you do." It was quite incredible. As the days went on, Ridcully's speech became more and more elaborate while Vimes' became blunter. Ironically, they were both doing it deliberately out of spite for the other. "_Which, _might I add, I have noticed has only begun ever since the Eyes have been upon you, opposed to being the filthy worm which you remain as otherwise."

"Archchancellor-" began the Patrician, quietly.

"And also, opposed to being afraid of people seing my knob, I do not mind! It is a part of my body, opposed to being something to be ashamed of other people seeing, as many people might suggest."

"I-I think I'll just go back to bed," said Carrot, walking away hurriedly.

"Archchancellor-"

"And as for yourself, opposed to being-"

"_Archchancellor."_

"Yes sir?" said Ridcully, meekly. He could go as far as he liked against Vimes, but when you were dealing with the Patrcian there was a certain invisble boundary which you strictly weren't allowed to pass(1). Italics are grave.

"You have said 'opposed' five times in the last two minutes. I think you'll find that 'rather' is quite adequate."

"Mm, you should try and get a larger vocabulary, Ridcully," muttered Vimes. However, his failed him when he put a spoonfull of porridge in his mouth. They really needed to stop Angua cooking- It was dangerous. As ridiculus as it sounded the monkey had been better than her.

And then it happened. It shouldn't have, but certain natural actions simply cannot be helped. He would regret it from his moment of leaving the house until the very moment he lay in his grave.

Vimes burped.

* * *

(1) No one exactly knew _what _would happen if they did pass it, but this was irrelevant. It would be like sticking your head into a tiger's mouth to see if it really would bite.

* * *

DAY 22- 8.45AM

"Brilliant!"

A nearby behind the scenes worker stopped fiddling with his Eye which was positioned nearby the dining table, and turned to see Dibbler almost leaping out of his chair with excitement. "...What's brilliant, sir?"

"Don't you see? They're dropping their defences. They're playing into my _hands. _I have them."

The behind the scenes worker, whose name happened to be Pete, had not been employed for his opinion or his inquisitive mind. He had been employed to look after a piece of glass, and say what Dibbler wanted to hear every now and then. "You have who, sir?"

"The housemates of course, you idiot! Picture this. Forget 'Vimes the Butcher', as they said in Borogravia. Nah, over _here, _we have..." He stopped to think for a second, before it dawned on him. He held up to hands and separated then as he spoke. "Vimes the _Belcher."_

"...Very good," muttered Pete.

"Okay. Somebody write that down! Now I want that and 'Nobody sees my Nob' put on a couple dozen T-Shirts and sold out in fifteen minutes. If they go well we'll make a few hundred more and have them on stalls outside the Moving Pictures hall."

As Pete scribbled this down, along with the other five nearest people, he reflected on the point that it seemed the OS studios had generated it's own new, original version of Propaganda.

"And put it on a few hats too. People like hats."

The T-Shirts were made, and indeed each of them was sold. It took a total of ten minutes.

DAY 22- 11.00AM: IN THE HOUSE

Granny Weatherwax scowled. She had tried so hard during her time in the house _not _to go into someone's head and force them to stab themselves. It wasn't due to any special rules that she hadn't already- it was more owing to the fact that she would only be able to do so once. She didn't want to waste her shot.

However, she was pretty close now.

"Mustrum," she called from the kitchen table. "I don't know what you're trying to do in there, but it's obviously doing just as well as most of your other projects."

"That's a good sign," said Ridcully around the corner.

"You think so...?" questioned Rincewind, rubbing the back of his head. "Wasn't your last project the 'Team Building Survival Week'?"

"She couldn't have known about that," muttered Ridcully, although he sounded slightly doubtful himself. His worry was soon abandoned however as he readied the frying pan in his hands. "It doesn't matter though. She'll be thanking me when she's eating a nice delicious pancake."

Rincewind didn't say anything to this. He just tried to make himself shrink further into his hat, which was already covered in yellow goo after a few of Ridcully's less fruitfull attempts.

"You see, Rincewind, the trick is... you've got to get the flip... just... _right!"_

Splat.

"Oh... damn it."

"Let's hope she'll be just as pleased about a nice delicious ceilingcake," Rincewind commented, quietly. "We've got enough of those."

"Well, she'll be thanking us at least for stopping that Watch sergeant cooking."

This was true. Looking at the sheer state of the kitchen, _no _person in their right mind would enter with intent to cook without a lot of forcefull people behind them.

"_Mustrum!"_

"Nearly finished, Esme! Do you prefer strawberries and cream filling, or blackcurrant?"

Another piece glooped down onto the brim of his hat.

DAY 22- 3.15PM: IN THE HOUSE

Vimes was in the pool. It was a good place for a bit of solitude, as not many were brave enough to face the icy drizzle which was the Ankh-Morporkian climate- especially while only in their swimwear. Carrot and Angua wouldn't mind all too much, but she was giving the kitchen a thorough and reluctant cleaning while he was sat in a corner alone in a fetal position. As for the Patrician, Vimes simply couldn't imagine Vetinari in a pool.

That left Vimes alone and in peace... apart from the millions who would no doubt be watching him.

And so while he was floating on his back, in a moment of small comfort when he could pretend that he truly _was _alone, he heard the sound.

SQUEAK.

Immedietly swinging himself around to bring his feet to the floor, Vimes looked ahead to see a small skeletal rat garbed in black staring at him with far too much interest to make him feel comfortable.

"What the-"

SQUEAK!

This apparition suggested two things to Vimes. One, that he was dead, and two, that he was in fact, and always had been, a rat. A small shock to the system, considering.

The rat scratched it's nose for a few seconds, and then scampered to the side.

Vimes didn't know how to react. Perhaps it was a test, a gag set by Dibbler. That wouldn't be too suprising, but he doubted they'd go to so much trouble training a rat to such an extent just to make a fool of him. Well, he didn't doubt it _that_ much.

The rat was now climbing up the leg of the chair by the side of the pool.

On the other hand... perhaps he was just hallucinating. That was a more plausible answer. Lack of edible food and constant stress was causing him to see things. If this was the case it was vital that he didn't react, as Eyes were all around.

The rat scurried under Vimes' trousers which he had left on the seat off the chair, and then without much ado, began to take them.

That was one hell of a hallucination.

"Hey!" he yelled, leaping out of the water and causing puddles to be formed everywhere, which he would probably be told off for later. "Get off those!"

It was too late. He fell to his knees by the fence as the skeletal rodent ran through a small gap in it, the trousers succesfully tugged through just before he could reach them. He stretched his arm out through the hole as far as he could, but it was futile. The trousers were gone.

He rose to his feet, disbelief coarsing through his veins.

"Damn!"

DAY 22- 3.45AM: ...VERY NEAR THE HOUSE AND WOULD BE CLOSER IF POSSIBLE

AH. YOU'VE RETURNED.

The Death of Rats was worried. Death was occasionally lost in simple human pleasures- Beer and curries, for example. However, he had never seen him as bad as this before.

AT LAST! _THIS _IS AUTHENTIC, IT CAN'T NOT BE! THEY WERE CLAIMING TO BE SELLING RINCEWIND'S BABY TEETH OUT THERE, BUT SINCE THERE WERE ABOUT FIFTEEN BAGS I VERY MUCH DOUBT THAT THEY WERE BEING HONEST WITH THAT SALE.

SQUEAK... replied the Death of Rats, wearily. Not another lecture. Albert had taken the risk of returning to the disk with his last few days to just get away from hearing every detail of the housemates lives before they went in.

YES, YES, LOOK AT THIS! VIMES THE BELCHER'S BADGE! SEE, LOOK, IT WAS IN HIS POCKET ALL THE TIME. IT SEEMS THAT HE DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE IT BEHIND, WHICH ISN'T AT ALL SUPRISING REALLY, BUT I'M SUPRISED THAT I NEVER NOTICED HIM WITH IT BEFORE...

SQUEAK.

BUT NOW I AM PRESENTED WITH THE _REAL _PRESSING QUESTION. DO I GO AND SELL THESE, OR HAVE THEM AS A KEEPSAKE? I MUST THANK YOU, MY LITTLE FRIEND, FOR GETTING THEM FOR ME.

SQUEAK! SQUEAK SQUEAK _SQUEAK!_

Death looked extremely shocked and offended,or at least as much as an animated skeleton could be. **WHAT? OF COURSE NOT! TO SUGGEST THAT I WOULD ENTER THE HOUSE MYSELF? PREPOSTEROUS! IT'S AGAINST THE RULES! THAT WOULD BE EXTREMELY WRONG! **

SQUEAK SQUEAK?

NO. I DON'T THINK YOU COUNT.

...SQUEAK...

DAY 22- 7.00PM: IN THE HOUSE

"Hello Angua."

"Hello, er, Older Sibling," said Angua, sitting down in the small room. This was the first time she had come to the diary room of her own free will. Other times she had only come to collect things for tasks, or give her personal attitude to how things were going in the house as was required occasionally. However, her view only mainly consisted of 'Yeah, it's kind of alright, but, but... Yeah. It's fine."

There was a short pause as each waited for the other to speak. Older Sibling broke the silence first. "Is there something you want to talk to Older Sibling about?"

"Yes. There is. I want to leave this place, now."

This statement caused a great dent in Older Sibling's comfort, and she found it worth saying even if only for that purpose alone. The man behind the eye was told to play the deaf game for a bit and hope she would give up and go away.

"Didn't you hear me? I want out!"

After some conversing, the best they could answer with was "Er, really?"

"Yes!"

A pause. And then "Older Sibling would like to know your reasons for wishing to leave the house."

They congratulated him on this later. It gave the behind the scenes workers plenty of time to work out what to do while she babbled on about her woes, and there were many.

"...And yes, although they each have their good sides, and I love them all... let's face it. They're complete and utter bastards-"

"Okay, okay, that'll do Angua."

This was a new voice, one that she hadn't heard while in the house before. Although this may have sounded like nothing to any fortunate non house-bound person, it was a great novelty for her. For three weeks she had heard no voices apart from those of her irritating housemates, and the bland, humanless voice of Older Sibling. "Oh. Can I go then?"

"...I'm going to be blunt with you, Angua. This is _not _Older Sibling, or at least not at the minute, and you are _not _on live. We've taken the view of you and have instead turned it to Rincewind on the toilet."

"...Right. So who _is _this then?"

"This is Dibbler. Angua, I'm fully aware that we told you upon entering that you have the complete right to leave the house whenever you like-"

"And I intend to make full use of that right."

"Look, just hear me out here. I'm not going to lie to you. We _need _you. Sure, Ridcully and Vimes provide great humour, but between you and me they're not much to look at. I also find it extremely unlikely that they might sleep together."

This caused her eyebrows to raise. "And with me it _is _more likely?"

"Bingo. Sorry Angua, but we need your pretty face. That's why we can't let you go- at least not until you've made your time here worthwhile."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What? But, we signed a contract! Besides, I have a... special condition..."

"My left eye wanders to the side everynow and then when it shouldn't. So what? I don't get special treatment fot it."

This was wrong. It was illegal! ...But who on the outside world was prepared to fix that type of injustice? Anyone who would care enough was trapped along with her.

"'Kay Angua, you're free to leave the Diary room. Have fun, won't you?"

Her face contorted into a form of pure rage. "_Fine," _she spat.

She swung the door open with such force Vimes who was stood behind recieved quite a shock. "Oh Gods, sorry!" she attempted, but she couldn't spare too much sympathy on anyone but herself.

"It's fine, Angua," he said, his hand rising to his nose, which was promptly starting to bleed. Millions of punches in the face during a bar fight he could handle, but an angry woman's misplaced wrath was something else. "Ah, damn." In a foolish and spontaneous act he lifted the front of his shirt against his now steadily flowing nose.

"I'm really, really sorry. Are you sure you're alright?"

"_Yes, _I'm fine," he lied. "Are _you, _dough? What's wid de anger?"

"It's... nothing. Nothing sir, just- Vimes, where are your _pants?"_

"Plead. Don't ask."

It was not turning out to be a good day.

DAY 23- 1.00PM: IN THE HOUSE

The usual custom in all wet and bleak countries was being followed. As the sun had happened to peek out from behind the many bullying rain clouds, everyone had swarmed outside into the garden in a desperate attempt to get a little colour, only to surely run in half an hour later with their arms over their heads as the hailstones crashed down on them and their little T-shirts. It was quite a sad practice if you thought about it.

Vetinari sat alone inside accompanied only by a cup of coffee, as the majority of them led out on the damp grass. He watched them through the window, but it seemed that they were oblivious to his glare.

Ridcully was there, his wide hat serving as a suitable sun shade for his face. Angua had dragged Carrot out as she thought that a little sunlight might do him good and hopefully stop him shuddering for no reason. Rincewind was dutifully drinking a milkshake made by Angua, only with the occasional spasm of pain and disgust shooting across his face (the locusts back in Fourecks were starting to look quite attractive) and Granny Weatherwax was sat outside in a chair, her arms folded and her eyes closed. He imagined that she must be borrowing again, but wether she was inside the pigeon circling above or prying through the other housemates minds he had no idea.

Vimes was still camping out in the diary room, continuing with his protest about lack of leg wear.

He leant back when something caught his eye. A young man had been walking past with a large box in his hands, but had stopped as soon as he saw Vetinari. Apparently he had been assured no one would be inside on a day like this. "Oh my lord-"

"Yes?"

The youth paused, the words 'Oh no, I'm gonna get fired for this...' running through his head over and over again. "I... er... I... I was meant to... er... set up the task..." Gods, why wouldn't that man _blink?_

"Oh, I see. Well, don't let me detain you." He turned away and continued to drink his coffee.

"By the way..." he suddenly carried on, as the youth, thinking he was free, began to set the box down. "Would you be able to tell me how the city is faring on the outside?"

Oh no. This was it- he could choose between his job, or his life. Considering the choice of the two he made a rather foolish decision. "I... I don't think I'm a-allowed to tell you, my great, _great _Lordship... er, great."

The Patrician stared at him curiously for a second, and then replied with "No, I suppose not."

The youth exhaled.

"Well, it has been a nice chat, Mister...?"

"Er, Carl," he replied. "Carl Parkhurst."

"Ah. It has been a nice chat, Mister Carl Parkhurst. Keep up with your productive work in OS Studios."

"Th-thankyou, sir, lordship," he answered, and without much more ado ran off, fleeing through a door in the wall which was completely invisible unless you knew it was there.

Vetinari smiled to himself a little, and took another drink of coffee. After a few seconds, he took a scrap of paper out of his pocket along with a pencil.

At the bottom of the list, he wrote '_C Parkhurst'._

DAY 23- 1.30PM: IN THE HOUSE

"Sam?"

"Vimes. What."

"Older Sibling assures you once again that there was no plot to seperate you from your trousers."

"Hah. Have you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?"

"Yes, Sam. Older Sibling is quite accustomed to the story of the boy who cried wolf."

"Would you like to hear it again?"

"Sam, although Older Sibling repeats that we are not responsible for you misplacing your trousers, we are pleased to tell you that if you would just leave the diary room and look at this weeks task you will see that your problem may have been solved."

"Vimes."

"_Please leave, _Sam."

DAY 23- 3. 50PM: IN THE HOUSE

Predictably, the task only made things worse for Vimes. He was a fool for momentarilly having hope that someone out there might actually be trying to _help _him.

"There not that bad, sir," said Angua, who was now wearing an extremely large and elaborate ball gown. "Well, not quite as bad as you make them out to be."

"I can't believe they're doing this," answered Vimes, who had borrowed Carrot's spot in the corner and now had his face pressed against his kness. "Sybil must have played some role in this. They're the exact same ones."

Angua cast another look at the offending red tights, which were still lying on the floor where Vimes had thrown them. She personally thought that they looked awful too, but unless she could convince Vimes otherwise they wouldn't have a chance of completing this task. "Please, just put them on."

"But the red tights... and the buckles..." he moaned quietly.

"Look, Ridcully's wearing his clothes, he doesn't mind."

As soon as she said this she realized that it wasn't the best of examples to give. The both looked to see Ridcully talking at Vetinari and Granny Weatherwax about his determination of doing his part for the group. Judging by the looks on their faces, they hadn't even registered his presence.

Vimes leant his head on his shoulder, as if fighting some terrible battle within himself. "...Alright. I'll put them on."

She gave a sigh of relief.

"Run it past me again, please," said Rincewind, struggling with a black cravat."What do we actually have to do?"

Granny Weatherwax, who herself was already wearing a large gown too, picked up the piece of paper. "Hah. You know it's going to be bad when it says 'Older Sibling wishes you to enjoy yourselves tonight."

"What else?"

"It just says that we need to dress in the formal clothes provided, and more instructions will be given later."

DAY 23- 4.50: IN THE HOUSE

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING."

"About time, too," grumbled Ridcully.

Everyone was sat at the kitchen table, as it had slowly become their conference area. Partially because it was nearest the coffee, which had become a vital fuel for every housemate. Each of them sat there with a steaming mug in their hands, despite the time of day.

"As we are sure you are aware, Older Sibling has provided you with a particularly special attire today."

"No, I dress like this all the time," Vimes growled, feet up on the table. It seemed he was only doing this to display that he had succesfully managed to get his buckled shoes muddy already.

"Today a task shall be set which shall test your agility and coordination. At nine tonight there shall be a dancing competition."

At this point the man doing the Older Sibling voice had been expecting, and looking forwards to, a groan. That was why they had hired him, for a lesser man would become broken at the dismay caused by every sentence they said. However, he didn't recieve a groan- instead there was a collective sigh.

Slightly annoyed at this lack of reaction, Older Sibling's voice continued. "The partners shall now be chosen randomly, along with one housemate who shall be exempt from tonight's task."

A small worrying thought rose up into the minds of the males in the house. While there were five men, there were only two women.

"The housemate who shall be exempt from this weeks task, is..." There was a sound of a small peice of paper being unfolded for effect. "Carrot."

"Oh," said Carrot with a look of dismay. "Oh. Alright, I'll just... Alright. I'll put the tuxedo away then, shall I."

He pushed his chair away from the table and went away into the other room. Vimes gave Angua an inquisitive glance, who shook her head.

"Ahem. The first dancing couple shall be... Havelock Vetinari and Granny Weatherwax."

They did not look at each other or say anything. However, from their subtle expressions it became obvious they felt that, out of the available outcomes, they had fared well.

"The second dancing couple shall be... Rincewind and Angua."

Vimes ran a hand over his face. He didn't remove it.

"And the third dancing couple shall be, slight pause, Ridcully and Vimes," said Ridcully, his face becoming increasingly more red. "Am I right?"

"...The third dancing couple shall be... Ridcully and Vimes. Thankyou. You have four hours to practice your dance routines before they are shown at nine."

Vimes' hand detached itself from his face and instead slammed into the table. "That's it, I'm going to that bloody diary room."

"Be sure to take a blanket with you this time if you're staying long," said Vetinari.

"I'm going too," said Ridcully, rising to his feet.

"Then on second thoughts don't take a blanket."

The Patrician recieved a number of very odd looks, to which he didn't respond at all.

DAY 23- 5.05PM: IN THE HOUSE

The Older Sibling voice could barely jog behind the walls to the diary room fast enough. "Good evening, Vimes and Ridcully."

"Yeah, I hope your evenings going just as swell as ours," Vimes snarled, leaning close to the Eye.

"What are your views on the task for tonight?"

"You want to know our bloody views?" said Vimes, accompanied with a rude hand gesture.

"This is an outrage!" Ridcully proclaimed. "Requesting that two middle aged men should... should... make a fool of themselves in such a fashion!"

"If you're there Dibbler, and I know you are because you eat up this kind of thing, let me be the first to say 'chosen randomly'? My arse!"

"We demand that you change this atrocity!"

After a seconds thought, the answer produced was "Older Sibling's decision is final."

"That was a good line, that," whispered Dibbler, patting the Older Sibling voice on the back. "Now we can throw that up whenever they complain about anything."

DAY 23- 7.30PM: IN THE HOUSE

"Rincewind, we can't carry on practicsing like this if you're going to continue to wear that huge hat."

"I can't take it off," Rincewind answered, knowing that on its own this line was a feeble arguement.

"Why not? Don't tell me it's your lucky hat or something."

He couldn't answer. Considering the experiences him and his headwear had shared it could be anything but lucky. He took it off, looking at in it an apolegetic manner as he held it in his hands, before he gently put it down on a nearby chair.

"It doesn't make sense," said Granny Weatherwax to Vetinari. Neither of the had made the slightest suggestion that they were going to get up and practice. "That's twice that they've given us a dancing task in a row."

"I suppose they're going with the 'if it's not broke, why fix it' theory. People nearly killing themselves and each other as they run around the room pointlessly must be at the top of the public's entertaiment list."

Carrot had been walking around the house silently with his head held up high, acting in a way which was a little too normal. Vimes had finally managed to pull him to the side. "Look, if you're that upset about it, you can take my place."

"Upset? I'm not upset, sir. Why should you recieve the impressioin that I'm upset?" he questioned, and then without waiting for a reply wandered away again. Vimes sighed.

"Commander?" called Ridcully. "Are you going to continue putting off this practising all day?"

"You've seen through my plan," sighed Vimes, wandering over.

"Come now. As much as I hate this, it must be... _nearly _worth it for the prize." He held his hands up in the dancing position. "I'll lead."

Vimes' eyebrows furrowed. "What makes you so sure you will?"

"Because I'm not the one wearing the red tights."

DAY 23- 9.00PM: IN THE HOUSE

"This is Older Sibling. Would the first dancing couple step onto this dance floor."

This wasn't exactly true. It was actually a few pieces of cardboard which had been placed down by a certain Carl Parkhurst, who had kept turning around cautiously if he thought he felt the watchfull eyes of Vetinari on his back.

They stepped up. It couldn't be ignored that they oddly looked magnificent, in clothes and act. They did an incredible Lindy Hop, in which they appeared to read each others minds in each action, which could have been the only answer due to the fact that practising had even crossed their minds once.

Yet despite the perfectness of their dance, the more noticeable thing was their faces. They bore no expression whatsoever.

At the end there was polite, perhaps even _enthusiastic _appluase, from everyone. Apart from Carrot, who just stood at the side, leaning against a wall. Vimes and Angua were really starting to worry about him.

"This is Older Sibling. Please would the second dancing couple step onto the dance floor."

After finding the monstrosity which was a network of knots under Rincewind's hat, Angua had attempted to fix it. Vimes had seen her later running to the bathroom, looking close to tears. The hat was being worn again.

Angua led. It was incredible how many times Rincewind stood on her feet; anyone counting would have been lost after the first six seconds. He might as well have stood on her feet throughout the whole time, as this would have saved time and may have improved the look of the dance. The Tango, rather than being a wild and passionate dance, became a mere embarrassing affair.

Rincewind looked quite upset as they went back to their seats. He looked like he felt he'd spoilt his chance. Angua on the otherhand, looked tired. She had to sit on the chair before she collapsed from exhaustion and pure stress.

"This is Older Sibling. Would the third dancing couple step onto the dance floor."

There was no appropriate word to describe Vimes' expression as he stepped up. Ridcully was more fortunate- No matter how he looked it was hidden from everyone else by his large cumbersome beard.

"Break a leg, Vimes," muttered Ridcully.

"I don't doubt it."

Rincewind steping on Angua's feet was nothing. The first blow was thrown on the second spin as Vimes' foot seemed to develop a life of it's own and swung around behind Ridcully's, causing him to stumble slightly. Ridcully's elbow found it's target in Vimes' chest. Before a minute had passed, the Waltz had speeded itself up into a badly disguised battle.

"So who's winning?" asked Rincewind.

"Well..." said Angua, leaning her head on one side. "Vimes is one up on the blows, and Ridcully certainly seems to be the one faltering the most, but it's his turn now."

Ridcully pushed the bout further. At the first oppurtunity he brought his knee up in a place which would normally bring a man down in defeat, however Vimes smiled. He was a Watchman- after years of experience it didn't effect him as much as it might. In a reply to the more aggresive blow he sharply nutted Ridcully in the head, causing him to fall onto the floor in a crumpled heap.

Angua considered applauding, but thought against it.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," said Vimes as he went to sit back down, rubbing his forehead slightly.

DAY 23- 10.10PM: IN THE HOUSE

"I think it's true, actually. Dancing _is _good for the soul."

"I wonder when he's going to come around..." said Rincewind, crouching over Ridcully. "It's been an hour now..."

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING."

"Ah. Results."

"Let's hope that the Commander's little brawl didn't tarnish our chances of being rewarded," said Vetinari, sitting back down in his chair at the dining table as they all went there to hear the news.

"Well it wouldn't qualify as a dance, but at least you lived many women's dreams by knocking Mustrum out," commented Granny Weatherwax. Vimes couldn't help feeling a little elated. _She _had _complimented _him. He must have done a good job.

"This is Older sibling. This winners for the dancing competition shall be announced tomorrow morning after judging is completed."

The voice dissapeared.

"What?" said Angua.

"It would appear that only two of us win," said Vetinari.

* * *

Well, there you have it. It's actually _longer-_a _lot _longer-than the other chapters, so this way it means it's easier for me, and it also means that you get to vote who you would like to win the dancing competition! 

Let me make this clear. DO NOT VOTE FOR WHO YOU WANT TO LEAVE. That will be done at the end of the next chapter. Also, you can't vote anything like 'Angua and Vetinari'. They have to be dancing couples. Work with me here.

The winners will reieve a special prize to share.

Please vote and review!


	10. Week 4 Part 2: Bean Bags and Rebellions

I bet you thought I'd given up on it.

Yeah, I know I've made people wait a long time for this one, so I'm not going to waste any more time with a long explanation.

* * *

DAY 24- 9.00AM: IN THE HOUSE

A cry rang through the house.

Vetinari's eyes darted up curiously.

Carrot shuddered violently.

Ridcully finally awoke from the floor.

"Who's being tortured?" asked Vimes, as the sound continued. "Apart from us, I mean."

"It's not anyone in here, I don't think," said Rincewind, glancing around. "I think it's coming from over there..."

Angua wandered over in the direction the wizard was pointing at, walking further and further until her ear ended up next to a wall. "It's still going on... yes. It's definitely in here."

"Can you hear anything else?"

"No. Just someone screaming."

DAY 24- 9.05AM: OS STUDIOS

"AAAAUUUUGGGGHHHH-"

"Sir, it's not that bad-"

"Not that bad?" cried Dibbler, nearly tearing his hair out of his head. "Nothing worse could have happened! Each and everyone one of them could start revolting and charging through the walls and it wouldn't be as serious as this!"

"But sir, look on the bright side..."

Sol wandered into the room curiously, to see a dozen yesmen consoling a mortified Dibbler. He wondered why only for a second, before his eyes landed on the newspaper which had been tossed onto the floor. "Oh, dear..." he said, a smile creeping onto his lips.

"You've seen it!" shouted Dibbler. "Bloody copy cats! It's exactly the same thing as we're doing! _Exactly the same!"_

"No it isn't, they've called theirs 'Big Brother'-"

"_It's the same thing!" _he screamed. "They just changed the title a bit so that we can't say anything!"

"Perhaps the wizards at the Unseen University sold the idea of the Omniscopes," one worker voiced.

"Yeah, I bet they did. Bloody wizards. That Ponder guy I was talking to about the task probably wanted to make a quick dollar." His face became pained. "_Big Brother. _What a lame title- they're crucifying this idea of mine, I swear."

"Oh well," sighed Sol, falsely. "I guess against this type of competition we might as well just give in and send the contestants ho-"

"Not on your life. If anything, this calls for even more drastic measures." He looked through the two way mirror at the unsuspecting housemates in a way that a god may inspect their newly developed planet. "I'll make sure they drag the viewers back, somehow."

DAY 24- 5.05PM: IN THE HOUSE

"Tea's ready, everyone," said Angua.

Ridcully, who had absent mindedly been seeing how many times he could fold a slip of paper, looked up. "What it is?"

"Spinach ravioli."

"Right! That's it!" the wizard exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I'm going to the diary room and leaving once and for all!"

"No you're not," Vimes said as he passed.

Ridcully stopped. "And what are you going to do to stop me, Watchman?"

"I'm not going to do anything," said Vimes, tiredly. He'd had enough of this. "If you think we could just walk out don't you think I would have done already?"

At this statement Rincewind decided to join. "What? It said on the contract that we could leave at our own free will..."

"It lied," Vimes answered, bluntly.

Rincewind groaned. "I thought I was finding a place where I could have boredom for a while, but instead I end up getting captured."

"I tried to leave too," said Angua, not looking at Ridcully after his direct knock against her cooking skills. "But they said something about us not making our time worth it yet."

At this Ridcully's enraged demeanour faltered slightly. "Is he trying to suggest that I'm boring?"

"Well I hate to tell you this, but-"

"Oh shut up, you," Ridcully snapped at Vimes. He scowled. Seeing himself as the leader of the housemates he felt it was his duty to protect them. Well, most of them. "All right, people. To the bean bag cushions!"

Everyone knew what this meant, and Dibbler actually snarled whenever they said it. He should have never given them the beanbag chairs. If only he had foreseen the trouble they would cause...

"All right," said Ridcully, making himself comfortable as he talked ensuring that the rustling made it impossible to be recorded. "We have a situation here. It has come to my attention that we are being kept prisoners in this house!"

They stared at him, waiting for him to clear the determined expression from his face and continue. "Yes?" said Angua.

"Well... I feel that we should do something about it."

Vimes clapped dryly. "Well, I must congratulate you. You might as well become a copper when you can come up with theories just like-"

"Please will you just shut up!" Ridcully shouted, this at least easily travelling over the sound of the furniture.

"I think that there are other more convenient times for your witty one liners, commander," said Vetinari.

"It's simple really, isn't it?" said Rincewind quietly. He sunk into the chair a little further to escape the many penetrating glares which met him at this statement. "Well... if we haven't given them what they want... why not just give it them?"

A moments silence before Vimes shook his head. "You don't realize what you're saying. This is _Dibbler _we're talking about here. When he says entertainment he means he wants us either dead, gay, or both."

"Well why don't we pretend?" suggests Angua. "Not to be dead, of course."

"It's seems the more attractive of the two," Vimes muttered, annoyed that they were seriously considering what he had just said.

"Right. _The Plan," _Ridcully stated, dramatically. "It's going to take teamwork, but I believe we can do it. We each need a role."

"Can I be the quiet one who minds his own business and tries not to cause trouble?" Rincewind requested.

"The most effective thing to do would be for each of us to take the role which would be the least likely for us," said Vetinari. "If Rincewind was to start a fight it would be more shocking to the public than if someone such as Commander Vimes did it."

This statement annoyed Vimes slightly. It seemed that they all thought of him as the troublemaker, while all the time he had been trying to keep his head down. He was just pushed into unfortunate circumstances.

"So what you're suggesting," said Angua, "Is that Rincewind try to start a fight with each of us?"

"Exactly," said Ridcully.

Rincewind chewed his finger anxiously. He considered arguing against this only for a second before the large part of his brain which focused on self preservation piped in. After all, he was stuck in a house with the biggest characters in Ankh-Morpork. He simply nodded.

"What about me though?" said Angua.

"Get in bed with the Captain," said Vetinari.

It was incredible. Vetinari was right about the way something is more shocking when said by a certain person, as he continually showed. Either they were seeing a side of Vetinari no one had ever seen before, or he was playing the game _extremely _well.

"Okay," said Angua, finally once everyone had recovered. "I suppose it saves him from doing anything. Personally I don't think he's up to anything..." She shook her head. "I'm really worried about him."

"Speaking of people we can't expect to do anything, how about that Witch Woman?" said Vimes, being as polite as ever. He shuddered. He wasn't afraid to admit that she scared him a little, especially since her recent friendship with the Patrician. Anyone who _chose _to spend their time with that man was someone to be avoided.

"Esme is fantastic entertainment just the way she is," said Ridcully curtly, in such a manner it seemed quite pointless to attempt arguing "So this bring us to me. How about I be the charming, outgoing, loveable roughish prankster who constantly delights the public?" he suggested.

"Good choice, Ridcully. That would _really _cause a shock-"

"Please give it a rest, sir," said Angua wearily. "I know you're good at it, but there isn't really any point anymore."

"I think you're being incredibly unfair, sergeant," Vimes muttered. "Fine then! Be an outgoing git, if you're sure you can act that well-"

"Vimes-"

"I get it! I get it!" he shouted, rising from his beanbag and wandering away to the pool, which had become his solitary refuge despite the trousers incident from the other day. He would have been outraged to know the others all thought he was sulking.

"Your... Lordship?" asked Angua, who could not help but still feel slightly apprehensive when speaking directly to the Patrician. "What role are you going to take?"

"I shall organize my own affairs."

DAY 24- 7.20PM: IN THE HOUSE

Angua stepped out into the garden, which the beanbag committee had retreated from earlier when it had started to get cold.

She wandered towards Vimes' personal territory- the pool. Gradually everyone had gained their own areas which others were strictly forbidden from entering, but it had been agreed that out of all of them she would probably be the one most welcomed into his ground. Carrot might have if he had removed himself from his area- in the bedroom underneath a tower made of mattresses. "Sir?"

"What is it, Angua?"

"We've been talking about... you know..." she said cautiously, as there was no awkward sound now to shadow her voice from Dibbler. "And we think we've decided the role for you."

"And that is?"

"I'm sorry, sir. You're probably not going to like this."

"Just tell me, sergeant."

She told him. He didn't like it.

DAY 25- 9.25AM: OS STUDIOS

"Sir, could you take a look at this please?"

Dibbler stepped beside the Behind the Scenes Worker to join him as he stared through the two way mirror. "What is it? They're sitting down to dinner. Thank the gods that woman hasn't been cooking this morning or they'll all end up being killed off..."

"No sir, I'm talking about the wizard. The skinny one. Just, well... _look, _sir," he beckoned.

Dibbler sighed. Watching the housemates was meant to be the job of the public, and even despite the obvious circumstances he could not rid himself of the horrible knowledge that someone was watching without paying. "Look, I really have _better-"_

And then he saw it. Rincewind came to the table with a plate in his hands. He shouted "Here's your damn eggs!" as he threw them before Angua.

Dibbler's mouth slowly opened. "That... That _is _Rincewind, isn't it?"

"It's very likely, sir."

Dibbler pressed his hand over his mouth as he thought. "Hmm. This is very interesting. Get Marvin Goom to get a few flashbacks of his normal timidness ready for tonight's show to have on just before you show this little treasure of footage. Oh, and send that new guy, Carl Parkhurst over to the Unseen University, so he can get us a bit more background information."

"I can't sir."

"And why's that?"

"He's dead, sir."

"Oh, really? What a shame. Send Figgins instead then."

DAY 25- 9.30AM: IN THE HOUSE

Rincewind closed his eyes for a second, prayed a silent prayer, and then resolved to continue with his quest despite the obvious danger. Considering it was him this was no small feat.

"H-Here's your d-damn coffee!" he exclaimed, slamming the cup down in front of the Patrician.

Vetinari stared at the cup for a second, and then stared at the wilting wizard before him. "Thanks very muchly."

Rincewind finally exhaled, and with a little more confidence, he turned to Ridcully. "Here's your _damn _toast!"

At this, Ridcully wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up abruptly. "How _dare _you say such a thing to me!" he promptly brought his fist to Rincewind's stomach, throwing him off his feet and onto his back.

"That wasn't part of the plan..." Angua whispered to Vimes.

He shook his head. "Pent up rage. Either that or he's just a bloody fool." He removed his fork from his mouth, tilting his head to his side to savour the flavour. Despite what the man said, Rincewind's damn sausages were pretty good.

DAY 25- 2.10PM: OS STUDIOUS

"Nothing," said Dibbler idly letting the paper slip from his hands. "Not a sausage. Not a _word."_

"Are you looking about Rincewind, sir?" The worker asked.

"No. The Patrician. Never before has he been recorded saying the word 'thanks' or 'muchly'. Not even when he was a kid, but that'll probably be because he never _was _one."

"Sir! sir!" someone shouted. Dibbler ran over to him, more urgently than he might have done before the breakfast revelation. "It's the girl! She's doing something!"

It was Angua. She was walking purposefully into the boys bedroom, hauling a duvet behind her.

"What's she doing?" the worker asked.

"I think she might actually be..."

She stopped in front of Carrot, who looked up at her. "Oh Carrot..."

"Holy hell!" exclaimed Dibbler as she started to unwind a long string of provocative statements, which caused Carrot's eyes to grow wider by the second. "It's only two in the afternoon!"

The entire OS crew were crowded around the window now, all naturally being insatiable perverts. You had to be to work in this job.

"You think she's gonna go the full mile?"

"Nah. I don't think she will. I've seen her..."

But this worker was quickly proved wrong, as she threw herself upon him and covered them both in the duvet. Writhing could be seen from underneath and the long kisses commenced.

A huge cheer rose from everyone behind the walls. Dibbler smiled. They might be able to beat those Big Brother bastards after all...

DAY 25- 2.15PM: IN THE HOUSE

Angua peeled her puckered lips away from her arm, and turned to face a bewildered Carrot. "That should keep them happy." She gave him a reassuring smile.

He opened his mouth to speak for the first time in two days. "...What did that third thing you said mean? That about-"

"That's not important," she interrupted hurriedly, before giving her arm another long an passionate snog. "What _is _important is how you've been behaving the past few days. What's wrong with you?"

He hesitated, not sure how to shape his anguish with words. "There's something about his place. It's not right."

"We've all been feeling that, Carrot."

He sighed in a mournful way, which was unusual for him. "If only I could speak to someone. I know that they'll need help in the dwarf bread museum, and I promised Miss Gillen that I'd help her mend her dress which a man cruelly tore with his teeth."

Angua's eyebrows furrowed. "This is the Miss Gillen who works at the Guild of Seamstresses?"

"Yes. You know her? I was thinking, being a seamstress you'd think she'd be able to do her own sewing. Perhaps she's still not very good at it."

"No, I'd imagine she's pretty experienced. _Teeth, _you say?" She couldn't help but wonder how after living in Ankh-Morpork for so long now he still hadn't discovered the horrifying truth behind the guild of seamstresses. But at least she'd got him talking again. "Why did you make those promises if you knew you were going to be coming here?"

"Well, I thought I'd be out after a while. I didn't expect it to last so long."

She tilted her head on one side affectionately. How could he have been so _stupid? _"I know you're depressed, but that's no need for all this. You've been so secluded lately, and..." Dare she say it to his face? "...A little creepy. Me and Vimes have been really worried."

"There's no need to worry about me, Angua."

But there was something about him, she thought, even now. A feeling of depression so strong it was contagious. It was impossible _not _to be worried about him. "There's something else, isn't there."

"No. There's nothing else wrong." He always had been such a terrible liar.

She shook her head, knowing that she wouldn't get anything else out of him. "All right. I'll leave you here for now so you can make up your mind if you want to talk again. I'm making Lasagna for tea tonight." She was unaware that if this had been said to anyone else it would have been incentive to 'Do a Nobby' and lock themselves in the bathroom. She didn't realize how fortunate she was to receive a wan smile from him.

DAY 25- 5.40: IN THE HOUSE

Granny Weatherwax, another secluded one who had taken to only ever speaking to Vetinari, looked up as a fog of black smoke travelled out from the kitchen and began to hover around her hat. "Look's like tea's ready."

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING."

They'd sorted out the volume problem long ago, but they couldn't resist making them all jump every time the voice came. It was one of the perks.

"IT IS TIME TO REVEAL THE RESULTS FROM THE DANCING COMPETITION."

After scrutinising the sentence he was about to say thoroughly, he decided that it would probably pass acceptable despite the sarcasm. "Joy," he replied, but felt a little miserable as he had missed his cue.

"Joy what?"

"Well I'm allowed to be happy, aren't I?" he answered grumpily.

"IN THIRD PLACE CAME ANGUA AND RINCEWIND WHO PERFORMED A TANGO, SCORING A TOTAL OF ONE POINTS."

"Oh... bloody hell I'm angry!" Rincewind shouted.

"I didn't expect much less," muttered Angua, her face black and a few burn holes in her top.

"IN SECOND PLACE CAME..."

Pause.

"VETINARI AND WEATHERWAX WHO PERFORMED A LINDY HOP, SCORING A TOTAL OF TEN POINTS."

"Wicked," said Vetinari.

"MEANING THAT IN FIRST PLACE CAME RIDCULLY AND VIMES WHO PERFORMED A..." Even the voice could not help but falter. "SLOW WALTZ? SCORING A TOTAL OF THIRTEEN POINTS. CONGRATULATIONS. YOUR PRIZE FOR WINNING THE TASK SHALL BE A ROMANTIC DINNER IN THE DIARY ROOM."

Vimes' face wrinkled up in disgust, and he turned to Ridcully expecting to see a similar expression. However he was surprised when he was instead met with a smile. "Capital!" exclaimed the wizard, clapping his hands together. "I'm sorry, my dear sergeant, but it looks as if we may have to miss your delightful lasagna. Can't be helped. Well, Vimes, shall we go?"

DAY 25- 6.00PM: IN THE HOUSE

It was annoyingly small in the diary room, which made it quite difficult for the two men to sit as far apart from each other as they possibly could, but with determination and perseverance they managed it somehow.

"Good afternoon, Sam and Ridcully."

"Mmf," muttered Vimes, as the smell of lobster rose to his nostrils. It unfortunately seemed to be well cooked.

"What a nice array we have here," said Ridcully as he looked over the table in front of them. "Lobster, wine..."

"Why not throw the bloody asparagus down there too and be done with it?"asked Vimes.

But during Ridcully's examination something caught his eye. Or rather, something didn't catch his eye. He sat back up in his seat, his beard quivering. "Hmph. This is outrageous. How can they expect us to have a civilised meal when they haven't supplied us with Wow Wow Sauce?"

"Oh please," said Vimes, who couldn't contain it any longer. "I'm sure there are plenty of more imaginative and entertaining ways they could kill us rather than simply gassing us to death."

Ridcully opened his mouth to argue but before it could reach its full terrifying size Vimes shoved the lobster tail in there

.At this point a thought entered the Watchman's mind as he watched his 'date' struggle against his cumbersome crustacean. It regarded his personal mission which Angua had told him about. Despite it probably being both the time and the place, he decided to put it off until later.

DAY 25- 7.00PM: IN THE HOUSE

"I wonder what they're doing in there," said Angua.

"You don't think," whispered Rincewind. "Perhaps they didn't win, they actually lost, and so they were evicted?"

"Far out," replied Vetinari.

DAY 26- 3.55PM: IN THE HOUSE

Granny Weatherwax took a brief look around to make sure there was no one else in the vicinity. She then stepped into the diary room for the first time ever. It was subtly ironic that it would also be her last.

"Good evening, Mistress Weatherwax."

"It will be," she answered.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Today I'm going to leave this house."

She'd had enough of it like everyone else, even if she didn't show it. After all, she knew that she was going to be leaving the next day either way. It was decidedly better to go quietly, _without _the screaming crowds and the hyper interrogation.

"...You are aware, Mistress Weatherwax, that only one person can leave?"

"Fully."

"Let her," Dibbler told the voice. "I did say that one could go once they'd done something worth it." He was actually pretty relived that she had done this before one of the more popular contestants had managed to use the ticket out of there.

"This is your last chance to say you wish to stay, Mistress Weatherwax, before you officially become a non-housemate. Are you certain you wish to leave the Older Sibling House?"

"Yes."

"Very well then. Please leave through the door to your right."

DAY 26- 4.00PM: IN THE HOUSE

He couldn't put it off any longer, Vimes thought to himself as he paced round and round the pool. Most of the other people had done their jobs, and despite feeling that his was the worst, he couldn't allow himself to not do his part.

Unaware that Granny Weatherwax had minutes before gone in and had not come out, he entered the diary room.

"Good afternoon, Sam."

Vimes. Good afternoon Older Sibling."

"Is there something troubling you, Sam?"

"Vimes." He hesitated. He had ran the conversation through his mind beforehand several times, not fully satisfied but knowing he never would be. It was even harder when it came to it, but he had no choice. It was probably the only way he would get out.

"I... I think I'm falling in love with the Patrician."

There. It was done. Vimes, a married man, had just proclaimed false affections for Vetinari to all of Ankh-Morpork, unaware that the one thing he was fighting for with it had already recently been taken away by Granny Weatherwax.

* * *

Phew! I hope you're happy, people! It was fun, but very very hard, and very... very... time consuming.

Sorry it takes so long. Can't be helped.

Oh yes, don't vote this week. Granny's walked, and so that's it for this week. Regardless I'd really appreciate feedback.

I'm going to go sleep now.


	11. Week 5 Part 1: A Test of Character

It's official. I am still alive, well, and more importantly, writing Big Brother. I'm sorry it takes so long.

**

* * *

****DAY 28- 11.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"...If you smile... through your fear and sorrow..."

Carrot turned his head once again to face the commander, who had recently decided to join him in his solitude corner. He quite liked the company, but couldn't help but feel it defeated the object.

"...Smile... and maybe tomorrow..."

He was singing, and it wasn't even a task.

"...You'll find that life is still worthwhile..."

And he still had that thing in his hands that he was working on. Angua had attempted to take it off him but he'd snarled at her. No one had spoken to him since then.

"...If... you... just... smile."

He stopped.

Carrot stared at him again. In all honesty he was actually feeling a lot better, and his recovery had strangely started ever since Vimes had plummeted. He wasn't sure why.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Hee hee hee..."

Perhaps Carrot's sanity had returned because it was needed. His subconscious knew that Vimes needed help, but continuing to rock in a corner wasn't going to help anyone.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Look, it's finished," he said, holding up his creation to the light carefully as if it was a sacred artifact. It had been constructed out of all his socks sewn together, and had a smiley face on it made out of bootlaces and buttons.

"Very good, sir. It's quite a masterpiece."

Vimes nodded in agreement.

"...But... what will you wear on your feet now?"

"Ah," he said sagely, and pulled it over his head. "It doesn't matter what I wear on my feet, see. Look, now I'll always be smiling!"

Carrot smiled in return, but could not restrain the urge to lean away slightly. Vimes had gone mad, and that was it. It just didn't work in his mind. The Commander had always stated that he would, whenever he found some more of Visit's Omnian pamphlets scattered about his desk for example, but no one had ever thought it would really happen.

For some reason it had all started when the Older Sibling voice announced that no one would be evicted this week because Granny Weatherwax had already walked.

Slowly and very thoughtfully, Carrot rose to his feet and stood straight, his back cricking loudly as he did so. For so long he'd been sat down in little corners, the feeling of being able to see above everything again was giving him a slight feeling of vertigo.

Angua jumped at the table as she heard her name said from behind, and turned to see him stood there, looking quite normal. "Carrot!" she exclaimed, nearly falling of her chair from the shock. "You're not shivering!"

"Nice of you to join us again, Captain," observed Vetinari.

"Angua, I need to speak to you."

"Why?"

"It's _important."_ His eyes stressed the matter.

It didn't take much more persuasion. She wasn't about to let a little matter like her dinner pause her from taking Carrot's first invitation to a conversation for days. She pushed her chair back and walked away with him.

Rincewind watched as they went. "It's strange, isn't it," he ventured.

"What is?" asked Ridcully, still sawing away at a piece of bacon done in Angua's usual 'burnt black' fashion.

"Well, what this house does. I think it's specially built to send people into a bout of craziness. I mean, all of us have done really weird things which we wouldn't do normally." When he remembered that Vetinari was still with them he felt it wise to rephrase this. "...Uh, what I meantwas, _most _of us-"

"Quite right," said Ridcully. "I haven't done one thing in this house that I'm ashamed of."

"But look at it," continued Rincewind, set on explaining his point. "At first the Bursar went, but he was probably already gone to began with. Nobby went weird too, staying away from everyone and actually hiding in a _bath. _Carrot went and has just seemed to come back. Angua's been acting a little jumpy lately-"

"And she can't cook," Ridcully interrupted, as the bacon finally shattered sending pieces flying in all directions. "But I'm not sure if madness can make someone go _that _bad."

"I lost it for a while and came back, and now _Vimes _has seemed to have lost his marbles completely."

"One might say that this house is a test of character," mused Vetinari. "To see how long one can last before they 'go bananas', as it were."

"On the subject of the Commander," said Ridcully, "I personally like him better the way he is at the minute."

"What was it that sent him, though?" asked Rincewind.

"Much more agreeable."

"It was the actions of Mistress Weatherwax, I believe," answered the Patrician. "It seems that Dibbler had relented to allowing a single housemate leave if we each made more exciting viewing. Commander Vimes was hoping to take the golden ticket himself, but she stepped in before him."

"A fair trade for young Carrot," Ridcully could still be heard saying in the background.

Vetinari smiled a little to himself. "Mistress Weatherwax leaves when Mistress Weatherwax decides to leave. She doesn't allow someone else to make the decision for her."

"A better atmosphere in the house..." Ridcully finished slowly, as he took in what the Patrician had just been saying.

That was his childhood_ love _the man was talking about.

**DAY 28- 11.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I know that you two both think I've gone insane."

Angua hesitated before speaking, as it was hard to address a convincing answer to someone who appeared to have a head consisting of a large sock. "Of course not, sir."

"Oh yes you do. But let me assure you, I'm perfectly fine." Vimes slowly ran his hand up the wall to help him stand, as eyeholes had seemed to have slipped his mind during production. "Everything's perfectly fine. Really good. Superbly hunkydory-" He slid back down again.

Carrot and Angua glanced at each other. "Commander Vimes-"

"That's _Commander Happy _to you, Carrotstick."

**DAY 29- 11.15AM: OS STUDIOS**

"Oh yes, oh yes," muttered Dibbler, as he watched the two Watchmen walk away dejectedly. "Oh yes, oh yes... Oh yes..."

Sol sighed, deciding it was time to stop the stuck record. "...Yes what...?"

"What do you mean, 'yes what'? Vimes has finally lost it! I was expecting him to ever since the beginning."

"Well I'm glad to see that a man resorting to madness as an only escape brings _you _some joy."

"Yeah, but he could've punched someone first. I owe someone a fiver now because of him."

Sol dropped the newspaper ('**Big Brother' Bites Back! Interview with creator to discover future plans to contend with rival OS...) **and stepped next to his uncle to look through the glass. "What was it that swung him?"

"Oh, a couple of things. That witch took the ticket out, and he found out just after he said he fancied Vetinari."

This was news to Sol. He worked as hard as he could not to take notice of the show, but every now and then his curiosity piqued. "And you believe him?"

"Not for a second.But I'm going to let the public decide for themselves, and they usually end up thinking what they know they want to."

Shaking his head, Sol sat back down in his chair and picked up the newspaper again. It took him a few seconds to notice the added presence hovering around his shoulders. "If you want to have a look, you just have to ask."

Not needing any more encouragement Dibbler snatched it away from above. "Right. Let's see what those Big Brother bastards are up to now..." He growled angrily to himself. "An _assault course? _Where the hell are they getting the money for that?"

"I guess it's going to blow our little sculpture competition out of the water, aye unc?"

Dibbler's expression gradually grew sourer as the magnitude of this sunk further and further in. "Mmm-grahmm, mrrmm."

"Pardon?"

"I said forget a damn _sculpting _competition."

If Dibbler had been paying more attention to the house occupants rather than cursing constantly within his own mind, he might have noticed as Vimes rose to his feet, made a trip to the closet where he remained for a while, and then returned to his original resting place.

**DAY 30- 7.55AM: IN THE HOUSE**

It had been such a boring day yesterday, truly shown by the way it actually stood out by the rest. No one had argued once, no one had threatened to kill themselves, and nothing had set on fire. A record in the Older Sibling House.

With nothing to do all day but worry, Angua had preoccupied herself thinking up new and exciting recipes to try out on the other housemates at breakfast the next morning. She was disappointed as she entered the kitchen to see Vetinari stood by a frying pan already.

"I must say, I really don't know how you do it," said Ridcully, sat back in his chair and looking really quite content. "Mine always stick to either the pan or the ceiling."

"The method is quite simple, Archancellor. The entire process relies on the subtle action of the wrist."

Rincewind looked down as a pancake with chopped up pieces of bacon mixed in it, yet smothered in golden syrup, was placed before him. Sure, the combination didn't make sense, but it worked. It was no potato though.

Ridcully was also pondering over the Patrician's unusual pancake mix. Not only did he wonder how he could possibly have learnt such a recipe when his every meal was cooked for him by forty different chefs, but he wondered if Vetinari's cooking skills might have shown up his personal failed attempt when he had tried to please Esme. Ridcully found himself thinking about her more through her absence than when she had even been there.

Angua's lips pursed together as she saw her one role in the house (other than pacifier, of course, but recently this quality had been less and less required) was snatched away from her. But of course they would turn back to her later. They couldn't live on crepes. After all, they loved her food; they all told her so. "I was just thinking, my lord, how about adding anchovies to that-"

And then she felt it.

**DAY 30- 12.35AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Commander Vimes?"

"Vimes isn't in right now. You are speaking to Jimmy."

"Well, Jimmy," continued Carrot, relentlessly. "I don't know if you recall, but during my earlier years in Ankh-Morpork I took a brief course on psychology. Because you said that I needed to learn a lot more about the way people think, and how to understand them?" This was not an exact quote. What had actually been said was 'For _Gods' sake, _Carrot, you should have known not to ask me if I wanted to donate money to the Howondaland Trust during _my_ _bender! _Learn that if my pants are on my head half of whatever I say tends to be a lie!

However, Vimes made no sign of remembering this occasion at all. At least if he did it couldn't be deciphered through his happy mask.

"Ah, I'm glad you do. Now, through your actions I can see that you are filled with a lot of anguish-"

"Um, Carrot," said Angua, approaching his side.

"I'm sorry, Angua, but I'm a little preoccupied at the moment. And from my experience sir, anguish usually revolves around a problem at a very early age. Tell me, what was your relationship with your parents like?"

"_Carrot-"_

"Angua, I really can't talk at the minute. We're making a breakthrough. Sir, was it a problem with your father, perhaps? The course said that at this point I should remain quiet and allow your childhood memories to resurface, normally resulting in tears and resolve. I shall now grant you that time." True to his word he fell silent, but despite his expertise the mask conveyed no emotion. "'I see, sir."

Angua threw her head back and screamed silently. That helped a little.

Vimes and Carrot were out of the picture and she didn't know who remained. She would just have to cope herself.

**DAY 30- 12.50: OS STUDIOS**

"That Watch sergeant is acting a bit odd, ain't she?"

"I dunno. Personally I find it quite perky. I mean, look at her. She's worried, her hair's a mess, she's a wreck..."

"...Yeah. I see what you mean. _Mmm._"

**DAY 30- 6.25PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"This is outrageous."

That was the eighth time Ridcully had said that in the last hour.

"Completely outrageous. We really should be complaining about this."

"About what, Archancellor? I truly have no idea what you're talking about," said Vetinari, as Rincewind's foot came dangerously close to his face.

"Well, about _this, _of course. It's completely outrageous!"

"I had no idea you thought that way. You should really try to express yourself more often."

Ridcully scowled. It seemed that Vetinari was keeping Vimes' place warm for him until he ventured back into the realm of sanity.

"There is nothing we can do about the matter, so I suggest we simply ignore it and carry on as best as we can," suggested Carrot, cheerfully.

It took a few seconds for this sentence and the entirety of its stupidness to truly sink into the other housemates. "How, exactly?" asked Rincewind.

"Pardon me?"

"How are we meant to carry on as if nothings wrong? The six of us have been forced into a tiny little corridor for what must be over twenty minutes now."

"I need to get out of here..." mumbled Angua quietly.

"I mean, you'd think it wasn't confined in the house enough!" exclaimed Ridcully. "At least if one of you became absolutely unbearable I could at least walk out of the room, but now I have to put up with the lot of you _all at once!" _He said it as if it was a true punishment only he was being forced to suffer. "Absolutely outrageous."

"I gathered," said Rincewind.

A few seconds passed silently, with the exception of Carrot humming a little song. And then-

"Whose moving?" said Rincewind, as the jumble was disturbed.

"I've got an itch on my elbow."

"Archancellor-" protested Vetinari, a little agitated.

"I'll only be a minute."

"Archancellor Ridcully..." Carrot attempted, as his face was pushed against the wall.

Once Ridcully had made himself comfortable again, everything started to settle down.

"Why've they locked us in here, anyway?" asked Rincewind eventually.

"I would gather that they are preparing the house for a task."

"Oh good," said Carrot, who had been exempt from the last task. "It will give us something to do and pass the time-"

"Screw your head on the right way, Captain," said Ridcully, causing Carrot to stop talking immediately, a little hurt.

After some more silence the wizard felt the need to bring aloud the thought which everyone had been sharing but had all been to polite to mention. "Ahem. No one had better let off while we're in here!"

This of course ensued more silence, only now it was tipped with embarrassment.

"Incredible _outrage-"_

"I DON'T CARE!" Angua bellowed suddenly, taking everyone by surprise.

"...Mr Happy doesn't like it when people shout..." Vimes muttered quietly.

**DAY 30- 6.35PM: OS STUDIOS**

"Heh, we might as well have made just this the whole task," said Dibbler. "This is _great."_

"Mm, riveting," replied Sol, turning another page of his newspaper. He'd finished it hours ago, but he needed to look as if he was doing _something._

**DAY 31- 6.45AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vetinari, being the first to wake, stepped out of the small corridor as the door was now unlocked for them. His long thin body cricked in various places as he was able to stretch fully without someone's elbow in his ribs. He then surveyed the room.

"Good morning your lordship," said Carrot, following the Patrician's example in being an early riser. "Well, this is all rather interesting, isn't it."

"Indeed."

Ridcully began to stir. He stretched his arms out wide, accidentally punching Angua who had been sat next to him in the face, waking her up with a start. "Rincewind? Are you awake?" he asked, giving the other wizard a little poke. "RINCEWIND!"

"-No you can't take the potatoes..." Rincewind blurted out as he suddenly sat up. "Hmm? ...Oh. I'm awake."

"Good man. It's the start of a fresh new day. We must prepare ourselves for the many obstacles and tasks which will present themselves!"

"What, you mean doing nothing?"

"Precisely."

Rincewind had no objections to this. He had multiple ways of doing nothing, and was always seeking more time in which to practice.

Carrot leaned his head back into the corridor. "Are you all right, Angua?"

She moaned something inaudible, rubbing her jaw.

"How's the commander this morning?"

"I don't know, I don't know..." she muttered, crawling out through the door way past him.

With this little help Carrot decided to inspect the corridor's one remaining occupant himself. "Sir? How are you feeling on this fine morning?"

But it seemed that the night had done him just as little favours as it had for everyone else. "...Ughh..."

"That bad, sir?"

"...Ugh."

Carrot nodded, and decided to leave him a little solitary.

"What's all this?" said Rincewind, inspecting the equipment which had been laid out for them throughout the entire house.

"It looks like they've arranged it all to look like a gym," explained Carrot.

"What's one of them?" He gave a hanging punchbag an experimental whack, causing it to swing in the opposite direction. The outcome of course required no explaining.

"Well I think it's a very good idea. People these days ought to learn the importance of exercise," announced Ridcully, unaware that the six foot dwarf who consisted almost entirely of muscle was stood directly behind him, making himself look quite podgy in comparison.

"But what do we need it for? Why's it here?" asked Rincewind, picking himself up off the floor.

"A fight." They looked to see Vetinari holding the message left by Older Sibling. "Housemates. Your task this week will be a test of physical strength and dexterity. You will be given two days in which you may use the exercise equipment to your leisure, ready for 6.00pm on day 33 when there shall be a fighting competition. You may use the martial art of your choice. Happy training." He neatly folded the letter up.

"...I don't suppose this one's optional, by any chance...?" asked Rincewind, a little quaver in his voice, as his eyes were dragged towards Carrot.

"Judging Older Sibling's nature I would presume not."

Rincewind drooped. "Bugger."

**DAY 31- 1.55PM**

**THIS IS REALLY QUITE INGENIOUS.**

Albert sighed. He was one of the few who truly _hated _the Older Sibling phenomenon, but unfortunately devout fans always found it their task in life to change his kind's attitude to the show, as if it were some kind of religion in which you could see the light. The truest hater had been lumped into the same building as the biggest fan, and unfortunately they had all eternity to squabble over the matter. "...What's really quite ingenious...?"

**OLDER SIBLING'S COMEBACK. THEY'RE KILLING TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE WITH THIS TASK. THEY'RE PROVIDING GREAT ENTERTAINMENT WHILE AT THE SAME TIME THEY ARE ALLOWING THE HOUSEMATES TO LET OF SOME STEAM. AND IF VIMES MANAGES TO GET HIS SANITY BACK SOON ENOUGH, HIM AND RIDCULLY WILL _HAVE _TO HAVE A GOOD FIGHT. GOSH, I WONDER WHO WILL WIN?**

Gosh? _Gosh? _"Why don't you just look into the future and see who wins? You could see who wins the whole damn thing, too."

Death seemed shocked. **HOW COULD YOU SUGGEST SUCH A THING? LOOK TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS? THAT WOULD RUIN THE POINT ENTIRELY! IT'S IMMORAL!**

"It was just a thought. You couldn't do me a favour and make it that they all suddenly die of malaria, could you?"

**ALBERT, WHAT HAS COME OVER YOU ALL OF A SUDDEN? YOU KNOW THAT IT DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT FOR ME. WHAT HAPPENS WILL HAPPEN. ...BESIDES, KILLING THE HOUSEMATES WOULD PROBABLY BE AGAINST THE RULES.**

"You can't blame me for wishful thinking."

**DAY 31- 6.10PM: IN THE HOUSE**

The housemates reacted in different ways to the task ahead. Carrot, fully appreciating his return to sanity and ready to give anything a go was training as much as he could. Ridcully was also working his hardest, not only because he wanted to prove a point, but because he wanted to become a muscle hunk and win, with the hopes that Esme might me watching. He was blissfully unaware that of course a mere two days training would make no considerable change to a man's physique.

Rincewind tried, but there was something about him and exercise which didn't work. Every time he touched a piece of equipment he ended up hurting himself, and he did so in a way so spectacular when it came to the pedometer the others were forced to believe he had done it purposefully.

Vetinari didn't train. He sat still with his eyes closed. Ridcully suspected that he was 'seeking inner enlightenment'.

Vimes was still in the corridor. No one had disturbed him, apart from Carrot leaving him a tuna sandwich at dinner.

Angua hadn't been able to bring herself to doing something as meaningless as training. There was no point to it in the grand scale of things, in her opinion. Not while other more pressing matters were at hand.

Wanting to escape the view of the public and Carrot's reassuring smile which was _too damn cheery _for how she felt at the moment, she snook into the closet.

She cried for a little while. There didn't seem to be anything else to do, or anything which would make her feel any better. Ever since she'd felt the full moon coming that was all she'd wanted to do.

She accidentally knocked something on the floor, and felt a sudden dampness around her feet. She wiped her hair out of her eyes to see what it was, and met an astonishing sight.

**DAY 31- 6.20PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Come on you."

"Angua..." said Carrot, still carrying a weight in one hand.

"This is _really _important. More important than some stupid task." She was fully aware that her dragging Carrot into the closet would immediately cause much anticipation and rejoicing behind the walls, but she didn't rightly care.

"Angua, what's wrong?" He felt something being shoved into his hands, and tried to look at it by the small streak of light struggling in through the crack in the doorway. "What's this?"

"Scumble."

"Scumble?"

"Don't you see? I knew Vimes wouldn't give in to insanity so easily. He isn't mad, he's drunk. And this morning he's terribly hung over." Carrot however, did not seem to share her joy. "Hmm? Surely you're happy about this."

He shook his head. "No. No, this is considerably worse. He hasn't drunk for years now." He sighed, sadly. "Lady Sybil will be most upset."

At that moment the door opened, silhouetting Vimes against the light. "So you've found out, then. I wondered how long it would take." He looked incredibly sick.

Angua gasped at the sight of him. "Sir!" She grabbed him by the collar, and what appeared to be greatly to his surprise, she dragged him in.

**DAY 31- 6.25PM: OS STUDIOS**

"What's going on in there now? A _threesome?"_

"I don't know, I can't hear them..."

**DAY 31- 6.25PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Angua, please don't. Still being _alive _after a full day on Scumble is hard enough."

"Mister Vimes, I thought that you said you were never going to drink again. What will Sybil think?"

"Sorry Carrot, but I just couldn't help it. It was all there ready to be drunk and I felt like shit- I hate to say it, but Dibbler's plan worked. As for Sybil..." He couldn't help but hesitate on this one. "Let's just stick with the 'insane' story, shall we?"

"You called me a 'Carrotstick', sir."

At this, Vimes found himself having a guilty little smile. Everyone knew that calling Carrot 'Carrotstick' or likewise was way too far under virtually any circumstances. "What did I tell you back that time? I don't make any sense during a bender."

"_Sir," _said Angua, a little more pleading in her tone now. "Please, you have to listen."

He turned away from the fretting Captain Carrot to look at her as best as he could in the dim light. "What is it, Angua?"

"It's time. It's _that _time."

**DAY 31- 6.30PM: OS STUDIOS**

Dibbler joined the crowd of behind the scenes workers, who appeared to be wasting as much good working time as they possibly could. "People!" he shouted. "There was some good stuff where Rincewind nearly garroted himself with his own skipping rope there! What the hell do you think you're doing missing it?"

"Shh," said someone.

This only succeeded in infuriating him further. "Who do you think you are telling _me _to 'Shh'? Get back to work!"

"We _are _working," said someone else.

Dibbler pushed his way through to get a better look at what they were all wasting his time for.

"The three of them are in there," one explained. "Vimes, Carrot and Angua."

"Vimes? Last thing I saw of him he was lying on the floor, drooling."

"Well he suddenly seems to be better now..."

Dibbler stared, scowling. There were definite murmurings, but they just couldn't be heard through the door. Another damn conspiracy. It was like the Nobby in the bath situation all over again. "Why do they do this to me? Don't they appreciate that I'm just some poor guy trying to make a living like them? If they've got something private and important to discuss, why don't they be so kind as to let me view it live?"

"I wonder," said Sol from nearby.

"Oh shut up, you."

"What do you want us to do?" asked a worker. "Surely we can't just let them get away with this."

"You're right. We can't."

**DAY 31- 6.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"...Right," said Vimes, eventually. "I think I've got a plan. Carrot, how attached are you to being able to show you face in public again?"

"Quite, sir."

"Damn. I'll have to think of something else then."

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING," announced the voice, loudly, and not doing anything at all to help Vimes' headache in the least. "WOULD ANGUA, CARROT AND VIMES STEP OUT OF THE CLOSET."

Vimes nearly bit his own tongue off as he watched Carrot promptly and obediently walk out and shut the door behind him. It was just in his nature to do such a thing. He had said that he would abide to the rules as best as he could before entering the house, and so that was what he intended to do. It seemed he knew what side his bread was buttered on.

Vimes shook his head. Had he taught him _nothing?_

"Mister Vimes, I can't help it anymore, please... can I change?"

"Yeah, of course," he mumbled, still a little angered about Carrot's slight treachery. He then realised what she fully meant. "Oh, sorry." He quickly turned away to face the wall.

He'd seen werewolves change before, but he never wanted to see it again. Not only because it was considered quite rude to watch, but also because it conjured up bad memories. Memories he'd rather not have to think about again. Unfortunately he knew he'd never forget the sheerness of the cold and the fear from that day, despite how far he buried it within his mind.

After he felt he'd given her a suitable amount of time he turned to see the ash blonde wolf behind him. "Right. ...We've really got a situation here."

"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING. WOULD RINCEWIND OPEN THE DOOR TO THE CLOSET."

**DAY 31- 6.45: OS STUDIOS**

"_That'll _get them."

**DAY 31- 6.50: IN THE HOUSE**

Rincewind would be the first to admit he wasn't as keen to get the closet as he could have been. Why him? What was going on? He couldn't help thinking that it was probably some horrible extra part of the task designed especially to torture him. By judging from previous events in his life this would seem a believable turn of events for him.

Very careful, and very slowly, he opened the door a crack. "...Hello?"

Vimes' sweat sodden face appeared on the other side of the door, and he did not look all to pleased to see him. "Rincewind. This isn't a good time, all right?"

"Hey, er... are you all right? You've been in there a while, and Older Sibling asked me to-"

"_Rincewind, _just-"

"I don't want us to get into trouble, and-"

"Look," interrupted Vimes, his voice becoming a lot lower and foreboding. "I would _really _appreciate it if you would _leave us alone_. Angua's in here, and it's kind of a private situation. Understand?"

At this Rincewind's face dropped into something containing a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"No, _no, _I didn't mean _that-"_

But it was too late. The wizard had already shut the door, and was walking away back into the living room with the very same stuck expression on his face.

Vimes' fists bunched together so tightly until his nails pierced his flesh. He then turned to Angua. _Damn _it! He think's we're having-"

**DAY 31- 7.00PM: OS STUDIOS**

"Sex?" said Dibbler, an extremely amused expression on his face.

"I thought he was married..." said Sol, thoughtfully.

"He is. And she's meant to be going out with Carrot. Hell, at the start of the show when I referred to them getting together, I hadn't been serious..." But as the thought mulled over in his mind, a new perspective which hadn't occurred to him popped up, and it wasn't one he liked. "How does _he _get all the women? What's so special about _him?_"

"He is pretty lucky, isn't he. He's got one with the looks, and the other for the cash."

Dibbler's face suddenly became very sour. "...Bastard."

**DAY 31- 7.15: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes slowly slid down and sat on the floor. He still felt like he was going to be sick, but he didn't think Angua would really appreciate another event added to the night. She also led down, her ears drooping sadly and her tail motionless.

Vimes' hand quested in his pocket for a cigar. He'd already had his for the day, but frankly he didn't care. He didn't think anything else would get him through the night. "...Insanity, booze and sex, eh? It's likely the only thing I'll have waiting for me when I get home will be a divorce paper."

* * *

I know it isn't at the right time during the story's week, but there might just be a surprise eviction...

Only one vote per reviewer, only vote for who you want to leave, blah blah blah... I'm sure you get the idea by now.

Votes do help a lot (of course. The story can't progress without then) but I do appreciate normal feedback about the story with them. If you'd be kind enough to tell me what you think ;)

By the way, cooked chopped up pieces of bacon thrown into a pancake while it's still cooking _does _taste really good. Try it. If you're really adventurous, go for the syrup with it as well. Just another cooking tip from his Lordship Vetinari.


	12. Week 5 part 2: The hangover phase

Late. I'm becoming a little notorious for the word, aren't I. I do have an excuse (no, really), but I'll save that until the end.

Geez... You can't deviate from a project on this site, can you. You get your head kicked in.

-----------------------------------------

**DAY 31 - 8.30AM: OS STUDIOS**

"Alright, people! As soon as you've finished the set for Older Sibling's Younger Sibling, I want the set for the eviction to be readied! Let's move!"

Susan had just been having her make-up applied for this morning's OSYS (Every morning. Every evening. Every night. Every second. The audience constantly asked for more and so Dibbler, who sat in the back counting cash, was only too happy to comply.). But at the sound of these words, her head jerked up causing a long streak of eyeliner to run down her face, much to the make-up artist's annoyance.

"What was that?" she said, attempting to run alongside Dibbler as he went. Unfortunately her tight black dress did its best to hinder her. "Dibbler, what did you mean by-"

"Listen, lady, I don't need to tell you-"

"**Tell me why.**"

"There's gonna be another eviction tonight," said Dibbler automatically, and then wondered why he had.

"Another eviction? Why?"

"Because, believe it or not, the rules of the show are that the contestants have to leave the hou-"

"I know that," she snapped, still trying to keep up with him. Say what you like about them, skimpy dresses were just no match for a good pair of pants. "What I meant by 'why' was why are you doing it now instead of later in the week."

"It's a surprise eviction. My style consists of keeping the audience and housemates on their toes."

"Really. I thought that your style more consisted of keeping them in there for as long as you could to gain more money, rather than freeing them from their prison so readily."

Dibbler didn't say anything, but simply continued to stride away hoping that she would give in and stop questioning him. Needless to say, she didn't.

"Who's coming out, then? I would appreciate some beforehand notice this time, for last time when that Corporal came out in full drag I nearly swallowed my tongue."

"I can't tell you who's going out."

"**Dibbler-**"

"Look, I don't know!" he said, finally stopping and turning around to face her. "I don't know, and there aren't any votes to count. This is a special one. It actually depends on how they fare in the task..."

Oh yes. The fighting competition... Most likely the evicted one would be coming out of the house and be rushed straight to the hospital.

"Why am I talking to you? I'm wasting my time..." said Dibbler, laying his hand against his forehead. Susan was just about to reply with a similar line when he interrupted. "I'm the boss here, and so it's not my job to answer unneeded questions, just as it's not your job to ask them. Your job is to go out and make sure that everyone can see your pretty little face." He paused. "Speaking of your pretty little face, it might be a good job to get that black line rubbed off the side of your cheek before you go on set. It's a little unfetching."

Susan scowled. "So what _is _your job, then?" she asked his retreating back.

He stopped. "I. I... uh... _Supervise."_

**DAY 31 - 8.45: IN THE HOUSE**

Opposed to having his head stuck in a toilet, as is the usual practice for someone who has spent any of the last few days of Scumble, Vimes in fact was knelt over and had his head stuck in the fridge. Partly because he was back onto solving his mini-mystery, and partly because he was taking every opportunity to hide his face available.

"It wasn't what you thought it was," he said as he felt a small anxious presence hovering about behind him.

"I know," said the voice of Rincewind. "You already said. You don't need to keep telling me."

"I'll keep telling you until you believe me."

"Alright then, I believe you."

"You don't though, do you."

Rincewind paused, in obvious difficultly. He would be terrible under real police interrogation. "...No."

Vimes sighed, and continued with what he was doing.

He was only glad that Angua was taking is better than he was. The whole of Ankh-Morpork had seen it, or at least the percentage that had their eyes glued to the big screen. But if Rincewind was anything to go by, the entire world was never going to let him forget what it looked like he'd done.

"Oh no," said Angua, having spotted him as she walked in. "What have they left in there..."

"Don't worry. It's not what they've left that I'm looking at. It's what they haven't."

She sat down at the table. For some reason she actually didn't seem abashed at all; at least it had been a good cover-up for her hairy little problem. Vimes just couldn't understand how she could possible prefer the lie to the truth. "Still think that they're conspiring against you?"

"I _know _that they're conspiring against me. For Gods' sake, this is Dibblerwe're talking about. I checked this morning- there was a packet of eggs. Now there isn't, and no one's been having any omelets. They're stealing our food from us." He very carefully and slowly removed his head from the fridge, ensuring that he did not bash it against the top in a comical way. He wasn't about to give them anymore material so freely.

"If they were stealing our food, Commander," said Vetinari from behind a huge newspaper. "Wouldn't it be wiser for them to simply not put it there in the first place?"

"Just because you don't believe me about the closet incident doesn't mean you can't believe me about this!" he said aggravatedly to the world in general. "I'm not old enough for my eyes to start playing tricks on me yet. They're stealing from us."

"Of course. Keep telling yourself that," said Vetinari quite simply, turning a page.

"But..." said Rincewind, "Say they are putting out food in and then taking it away, to mess with our minds or something… Wouldn't they announce it as a task?"

"Good point, I'll go check," said Vimes hurriedly, and promptly walked away to speak to Older Sibling. Angua watched in interest at his keenness.

A few seconds of silence passed upon his departure, before Rincewind rose from his seat and took Vimes' place before the fridge. "Oh, good," he breathed with a sigh of relief. "At least they didn't take the potat-"

"Will you just shut up about your GOD DAMN POTATOES!" yelled a voice from the region of the diary room.

**DAY 31 – 9.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Good evening, Sam."

"Vimes. And it's morning, by the way." After this prompt correction he sat himself down on the chair (it's bright and cheerful red colour had been lost to deliberate sloppiness and frayed due to aggravated fingers) and put his head in his hands.

"Was there something you wanted to talk to Older Sibling about, Sam?"

"Vimes. Vimes. Bloody _Vimes," _he groaned, his hands grasping against his hair. "And yes. There is, and it doesn't concern the disappearing food mystery. I know you're not about to tell me anything. I just wanted a break from being with that lot, and a chat, if that's allowed."

"Of course it is allowed, Sam. The purpose of the diary room is that you may talk and confess your thoughts to Older-"

"Alright, I get the idea." The guy behind the mirror… Did they keep _him _locked in that room, too? He may have just been imagining it, but Vimes couldn't help but think that Older Sibling's voice had jumped up a notch at the prospect of a conversation. "It's… so hard being in here. I want to get out. Sybil will have been coming to see this, I know she will have, and I don't want my son's first words to be 'Vote now'."

"Older Sibling-"

"Shut up. I didn't ask you to say anything. I know you're not going to let me out, and I know that you're not going to tell me what the _hell _is going on with that fridge, but please. Please, don't show that footage about me and Angua. It wasn't true, and I know you know that, but if people see it…" He stopped, unable to put it into words so readily. "It'll destroy me, and more importantly it'll destroy Sybil."

"Older Sibling has taken your request, it will put it into consideration."

Vimes clenched his eyes and lashed out a fist against the nearest wall. "Fine then. We'll play it that way." As he rose from the seat, he paused before exiting. "By the way… was that a _newspaper _Vetinari was reading?"

"Thank you Sam, and enjoy the rest of the day."

**DAY 32 – 1.20PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Hruugh…"

"Keep going, Archancellor Ridcully, you can do it!" said Carrot, encouragingly.

"_Hruuugh…" _the wizard repeated as he attempted to lift the bar above his head, making sounds only ever before heard in maternity wards.

"You've nearly made it! Just a little further!"

"_Hruu- _Aah!" he exclaimed triumphantly as his arms shot straight upwards, and simultaneously the bar dropped down against the floor with a clang.

"Congratulations, you've done very well."

"Yes, I have improved significantly, haven't I," said Ridcully, beaming. His arms still remained raised for some reason.

"Here, let me get that for you," said Carrot, lowering a single hand and lifting the weight back onto the rack. After doing so he caught onto Ridcully's glare, and then his arms. "You're allowed to put them down now, you know."

Ridcully opened his mouth to speak, but then decided to make a change of statement. "Actually, I think I will keep them up like this. Quite comfortable you know…" He then left the room, having to limbo slightly in order to get under the doorframe.

Upon being left alone in the room full of gym equipment, Carrot checked his pulse and began to jog on the spot.

"Good afternoon, Angua," he said as she entered.

"Hi Carrot," she replied, sitting down on the seat of a complex looking machine. "What are you doing?"

"Training for the fight, of course!"

She tilted her head to the side slightly, wondering if he had actually _noticed _that his neck was probably as wide as a normal person's waist. "No one else is really bothering to do it. There's only you and Ridcully."

"Rincewind too," he prompted her.

"No, I don't really think he counts..." She watched as he stopped, placed two fingers on his wrist, and began again. "…Are you alright?"

"Of course I am, Angua. Why do you ask?"

"Well you've been sat in a corner rocking for the past few days, if you hadn't noticed," she said, a little agitated at his unwaverable cheery demeanor.

"Don't worry about me. That was just a short phase I was going through."

"Yes, but what I'm most interested to know is what caused it in the first place."

He paused his training for a moment. Should he tell her? Should he tell her about what he'd heard so early on, at the morning of day eight? It would probably worry her, but he didn't like to keep things secret…

"Come on, Carrot. What happened?"

"…Nothing. Nothing in particular," he said, mopping his brow and walking out into the garden.

**DAY 33- 5.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

The occupants of the house sat together at the dinner table, eating their eggplant stroganoff. It was the meal before the fight. Probably the last supper, for anyone who might happen to be put against the Captain of the Watch.

They talked occasionally. No real conversation; there is only so much you can talk about after you've been with someone for nearly five weeks, leaving only bitchiness left as an option and that was not available while everyone was present.

One of them said nothing at all.

Vetinari sat, having politely declined his tea no matter how much Angua offered it to him, and sat contently with his newspaper and coffee. At the moment, these two objects were the only things in the world that had any meaning to him.

No one noticed, and he barely did himself (which was surprising considering how in-tune with himself he normally was), but Vetinari was cracking. The house truly was a test of character, as he had said earlier. Everyone else had fallen at some point and had each 'gone' for a short period, and only he remained to go insane. It was difficult. So very difficult to not give in, but as he did with any thing that issued any stress upon him, he looked upon it as a test. A test of his mental stability. A test of his character. A test that he would overcome, he thought to himself, as he turned a page of the newspaper that he had made and written himself in the very early hours of the day.

**DAY 33- 5.05PM: OS STUDIOS **

"Come on…" said Dibbler impatiently to his nephew, while at the same time trying to make a pair of chopsticks cooperate with him and his fast-food. "How long can it take you? You went to school, didn't you?"

"It's hard," Sol muttered, pressing his pencil against his lip as he thought.

"Hard? How can it be so hard to just right out a chart of matches for the fight?"

"We've got six people, unc," he said, slamming the pencil against the desk. "Six. If we had eight I might be able to make it work, but six just doesn't."

"Well _improvise _then," said Dibbler, brandishing a chopstick at him. "What do you think I'm paying you for?"

"Pay? What pay? I didn't know you were paying me for this."

"Of course I'm not. You're family," said Dibbler, resulting, as most people do, to simply shoveling it down with his fingers.

**DAY 33- 6.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"The rules are; there are no rules."

"How original," murmured Vimes from the sidelines.

"Older Sibling wishes you all the very best of luck."

Ding ding!

Rincewind looked up. And up. And up. He'd never really though about it that much before, but Carrot was actually very, very big. How could he have not noticed? Surely it would have been impossible not to. Or maybe he had just suddenly grown over the past five seconds; that seemed probable.

Oh gods. He was walking forwards. Oh gods. Oh godsohgods-

"Rincewind?" said Carrot, to the small huddled lump sat on his foot. "Rincewind, are you alright?"

An inaudible sob.

"Rincewind?"

"I think you've killed him," said Vimes with a hint of a smile, allowing a stream of cigar smoke to emanate from his mouth.

"I didn't mean to…" said Carrot, lifting his foot slightly to see Rincewind allow himself to be moved with it. "What did I do?"

"The winner of the first fight is…" said the Older Sibling, persisting with the dramatic pause no matter how much it wasn't needed. "Captain Carrot. Congratulations."

"Rincewind…" said Carrot, softly, trying to move him without doing anything to upset him further. "Rincewind… It's all over now…"

He didn't move, continuing to adopt the endangered hedgehog squat.

"The next combatant will be…" said the voice, "Ridcully."

"Ah, good," said Ridcully at the sound of his name, jumping from his seat and bouncing back and forth from foot to foot. "And who shall my opponent be?"

"_Pleasenotmepleasenotme…"_

"Angua."

Vimes gave a great sigh of relief, allowing another cloud of smoke to drift into the room. How very odd that something should turn out slightly in his favour… It seemed that someone up there didn't _completely _hate him.

Ridcully also seemed pleased with Older Sibling's choice, if not for the same reason. He watched, unable to suppress a grin, as the house's one female wearily got to her feet and stepped into the middle of the room.

"Don't worry Angua, I'll try not to hurt you," he said, holding his hands before him in what he hoped to look like the threatening pose of a martial artist.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

It was rather short, and rather uneventful. Ridcully ran forwards, doing a 360 degree spin and brandishing an arm at Angua at great speed. However, due to her having moved one step to the right during the execution of the move, the greatest blow he struck was against the air. She then grabbed his outstretched arm and folded it in on itself.

"Yaaa…" he whimpered, falling to his knees, his arm quivering dangerously as he attempted to move it.

"You missed the point a little," she explained as she sat back down in her place. "When you're in a fight against someone, you're _meant_ to try hurt the other person."

Vimes smiled. True, he could not take credit for all of her skill, but he could not help congratulating himself on having such an efficient sergeant. It was something near fatherly pride.

"The next combatants are… Sam and Carrot."

His smile was wiped from his face as quickly as it had developed. …_Carrot?_

Finally having managed to free himself from the limpet of a wizard, Carrot stepped into the center of the room. Vimes was still sat down, a slightly glazed look in his eyes.

"Sir?" said Angua, giving him a small jab in the ribs. "Vimes, it's time to get up…"

"I'm up, I'm up," he said suddenly, as if the past few seconds had just caught up with him.

He looked to the side as he stood before Carrot. He then looked at Ridcully. Despite the fact that his elbow was facing in a northerly direction while his hand was facing in a southerly, Ridcully was somehow managing to smile at this predicament.

"This should be interesting, shouldn't it sir," said Carrot, without a trace of wickedness in his sincere smile.

"Very," muttered Vimes.

Ding ding.

It was quite difficult for both of them, but Carrot seemed to be faring the best. Vimes still looked slightly dumbfounded. What should he do? While one half of his brain was thinking how wrong it was of Dibbler to put him in this situation, and how he should simply stand motionless in protest, the other half of his brain was working away at little places that looked like little target zones…

A straight punch nearly caught him off guard, and would have caused his teeth to be decorating the back of his head had Vimes not fallen down to the ground in time. Carrot really wasn't hesitating. Something he was actually admiring him for, in fact. It made sense- standing around thinking didn't win fights. Surely he should know that.

So if he knew it, then why was _he _hesitating?

'_Just go for it, Sam', _said the outgoing half of his mind. _'Get beaten and it'll look like you've gone soft. You're the Commander, for Gods' sake-'_

But it wouldn't be right-

'_Just do it. Just one little blow could take him out…'_

Vimes gave in. He gave one little blow.

**DAY 33- 6.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I'm really, very sorry, Carrot."

"It's all right, sir," replied Carrot led on the sofa, in a rather high voice.

"I don't know what came over me."

"Carrot," said Angua, walking in from the room in which the fights were taking place. "How are you? How is… you?"

"I'm fine…"

She looked up at Vimes, who had the decency to look slightly guilty. "That wasn't very nice."

"I didn't mean it."

"Mean it? How could you not mean to kick someone-"

"I just lost it for a moment, okay? Instinct came through when nothing else presented itself." He also wanted to voice the fact that had one of Carrot's blows made contact it would have probably decorated the room with a lush red, but didn't think that it would go down very well.

She shook her head. "Rincewind went up against Ridcully to see who the loser was, and Rincewind lost. Well, neither of them actually managed to do anything to each other, but at least Ridcully managed to step into the center of the room."

"You know, I could talk to you about what you did to Ridcully. That was equally 'not-very-nice,'" said Vimes in his defense.

"Yes, but the difference it that we like Carrot, whereas we don't Ridcully. Anyway," she continued after this brief summing up, "I've just been up against the Patrician."

Vimes' face changed due to concern. "What happened?"

"Well," she began, a little hesitantly. "It… wasn't good."

"Wasn't good?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Wasn't good. In the sense that you've got to fight him now."

"Oh." And that was all he would say. "Oh."

Haha… cliffhangers R us.

So, as for the excuse for my being late. My computer exploded. Well, maybe not literally, but it might as well have for the damage it did. I lost everything. Absolutely everything…

But lets not have that deter us from the story. I Promise. P-R-O-M-I-S-E that I will update shortly. No votes for this one though, please; just tell me what you think.


	13. Week 5 Part 3: Something Near Murder

**-**yawn- I'm so tired… I'm in on my own and that's why I'm typing this at twenty five past eleven… While trying to eat my bodyweight in crunchy nut cornflakes.

Sol only ever appeared in Moving pictures, and so he never really got a big show on the Discworld. However, despite the little look into his character we got, in this he's changed and become a little more developed to me.

Brought back just so that he can have the shit kicked out of him by his uncle… I pity him.

* * *

**DAY 33- 6.45PM: OS STUDIOS**

"Mr Dibbler, I have the T-shirt prototypes you wanted…" The behind the scenes worker stopped upon stepping into the room, as a curious sight met his eyes. A young man, pinned against a wall by his nostrils, with Dibbler stood before him with two chopsticks up said nostrils. "…Oh… Um. I'll come back later."

And he left. After all, what could you upon seeing something like that?

"You stupid, _stupid _boy," said Dibbler through gritted teeth. "Stupid. _Stupid…"_

"Okay, I'm stupid!" Sol wailed desperately. "Now just tell me what I've done!"

"Stupid, stupid boy!" He removed the chopsticks, allowing Sol to start breathing again. "Can't you see what you've done?"

"I can't see anything, I think you shoved one a little too far up…" said Sol, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You designed the fight so that Vimes and Ridcully didn't end up fighting!"

_So THAT'S what all this is about? _"It wasn't my fault! I told you it didn't work out with there only being six of them."

Dibbler just turned away, growling slightly under his breath.

"Anyway, I never thought that Angua was going to beat Ridcully. She looks so nice…"

"She's a Watch sergeant!" yelled Dibbler. "That means, dearest Sol, that she's under the command of Vimes! Does that not mean anything to you?"

Sol shook his head, not wishing to antagonize him further. This wasn't Dibbler anymore. Sure, he could get a little strange when he was devoted to a profit maker; the Moving Pictures had been a fine example of that… But this time it was different. It was worse. Sol wouldn't have been surprised if there was something mystical like 'the soul of Older Sibling', which had possessed him. That would at least explain his frightening behaviour.

"I mean, look! Look at Vetinari! He hasn't got an _ounce _of muscle on his body, but do you think that means _he _can't fend for himself? Images are misleading!"

"Speaking of which," said Sol hurriedly, having hopefully found a route that led to soothing Dibbler. And perhaps him dropping those bloody sticks(1). "Even though Vimes won't be fighting Ridcully, he still has to fight the Patrician, right?"

"Myeah," muttered Dibbler, grudgingly.

"Surely that'll be something worth watching, right?"

"Mm… I suppose so…" said Dibbler, "But I know Vimes. He won't hit him; he'll either just stand there and allow himself to get killed, or he'll start protesting, or he'll do some other little thing which he so likes to do in order to break the system."

"Well I don't know," said Sol, sitting down on a chair decisively at the opposite side of the room. "Do something you usually do. Make winning worth it. Announce over the tannoy thing that there's a prize."

Dibbler considered this. "There already is a prize, but I haven't actually told them yet… It's a fantastic idea. I'm a genius."

Sol didn't even bother replying to this obvious cue for canned laughter. It didn't really seem worth it.

"Right, so that's sorted." Dibbler leapt from his seat and bounded over to the see-through wall looking upon the fight room. "Mmhmhmhm…" he laughed to himself through a closed mouth, before something struck him. "Wait. Where the hell's that guy with those T-shirts?"

---

(1)Not literally bloody, of course. They didn't go quite _that _far up.

---

**DAY 33- 7.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"You're coming to watch? Even after what I did to Carrot?" asked Vimes as he walked into the room, realizing that Angua was following behind.

"I thought I should. It might be the last time I see you," she replied.

Vimes stopped, and leant closer towards her ear. "What… What did he actually _do?" _he asked in a hushed voice.

She hesitated. "Well, the thing is, sir, I'm not actually sure…"

Great. Brimming with confidence, Vimes stepped into the centre of the room. Vetinari was already stood there, somehow looking quite innocent while foreboding at the same time.

Wait, why was he so worried? Vimes thought to himself. He was a _Watchman, Commander, _even, and what was this little man before him? A politician. A guy who sat at the desk all day.

_Yes, but _you _sit at the desk all day too now…_

Maybe, he thought in an attempted louder voice than that of the previous thought. But at least he had the experience. Vetinari may be a fearful man when it came to neat little statements written on neat little pieces of paper, but no, he was not the type of person who would wander the streets at night, sword in hand. And no, he was not someone who had grown up in the streets; he was just a little posh guy. And no, he would not be able to chase over rooftops after a serial killer, he would just pay the murderer to kill on a slightly better organised system. And no, he wasn't someone who had spoken to death at the most desperate times of his life, he was just the type of person who paid other people to go through the desperate times of his life _for _him.

And no, Vimes was not crying, his tear ducts were just malfunctioning.

"Are you alright, Commander?" said Vetinari, in his usual piercing tone.

"Fantastic."

"This is Older Sibling," said the most eloquently put 'tannoy thing'. "Older Sibling informs you that there shall be a fantastic prize for the winner of the task, while there shall be a grave punishment for the loser."

"Well, thank you so much for telling us now, when it's all nearly over!" exclaimed Ridcully, leaning forward in his seat. "Does a lot of good, now!"

Vimes didn't say anything. The prospect of a Fantastic Prize if he should win did not elate him as it should have done. At the sound of the sudden voice he had developed a brittle hope that it was going to announce that the task was being called off, on the grounds of the preservation of endangered Watchmen.

"Older Sibling wishes you the very best of luck."

Ding ding!

_Luck, _thought Vimes, _is not what I need._

There was another motionless period, but different to the prelude of the fight between Carrot and Vimes. That time both combatants had been still due to anxiety and general nervousness. This time however, the Patrician just stood there, and there was nothing else to say about his stance. He might as well have been a statue for the amount of emotion he portrayed. This didn't matter, though, for Vimes supplied enough anxiety for the two of them.

He was worried about his own well-being, yes, but not only because he might lose. No, the thing he was more worried about was if he _won… _That potentially possessed consequences far more dire.

He was going to have to do something.

Vimes stepped forward, and with great purpose launched a fist at the area approximately five centimetres above the Patrician's left shoulder.

The man didn't move a muscle.

"Come on, Vimes!" exclaimed Ridcully from the side. "Show us if all that bravado from earlier actually meant anything!"

Bravado? Vimes couldn't recall himself doing any bravading lately. Nevertheless, he executed another perfectly aimed punch. Aimed above the right shoulder this time.

Once again, not the slightest muscle spasm.

Vimes was feeling a little insulted now.

He punched not so close. No movement.

A little closer. No movement.

Straight at that damn expressionless face of his-

He moved! Damn it, at the last minute he moved ever so slightly! How did he _do _that?

Vimes punched.

He kicked.

He walloped.

He missed.

All these blows, at air though they were, Vimes found to be oddly therapeutic. Unfortunately, an effect of this was that he started to push faster, and harder.

"All those times," Vimes muttered breathlessly as he attempted to pummel. "All those times you expected me to sort it all out… the bloody dragon… the bloody Klatchians… the bloody werewolves… You _bloody bastard-"_

He was cut short when he hit.

There was a short gasp from Angua, and Ridcully's jaw dropped.

Although it had been Vetinari who was hit, and was keeling over, Vimes was the one who looked more like he'd received a blow. Time slowed, allowing the smallest moment to develop to the greatest extent, allowing maximum horror. _Oh Gods, I've killed him. I've killed Havelock Vetinari. _

He couldn't see his face. He was stood, clutching at his chest. He looked ready to drop to his knees.

"… Erm… Sir…?" said Vimes, tentatively, taking a tiny step forward and lowering slightly.

And suddenly, at that moment, two fingers rose and reached Vimes' neck with extreme precision.

And the last thing he remembered was the ground coming up to meet him…

**DAY 33- 9.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I must concede, it has been a rather interesting day today," said Vetinari, sat at the table with his becoming-trademark steaming cup of coffee in his hands.

Angua looked at him over the rim of her hot chocolate. Interesting _was _a word for it, she supposed.

"Well, the important thing is that no one was hurt," said Ridcully.

"Apart from Carrot," said Angua.

"Yes, well, I suppose-"

"And Rincewind."

"But no one actually _hit _him-"

"And Vimes."

"Okay, but who _cares-"_

"And you."

"Yes," Ridcully conceded, his arm in a sling. "Yes, I did get hurt. But I am not ashamed about being defeated by you, a woman, and I am bravely soldiering on."

"I assure you, Vimes was not harmed," said the Patrician, feeling that it would be better to let them know at last. "When he wakes up he will most likely feel far better than he did before."

_If he wakes up,_ Angua could not help but think. No one had known what the Patrician had done, or how he done done it, but no one really wanted to know. Something things were not meant to be known by mortal man… Only Vetinari.

* * *

See? I told you I wouldn't be that long. This is probably my fastest update ever… nothing for three months, and then two in a week. I had to show my love (... yeah, okay then, love) for the two characters of Vimes and Vetinari. 

The eviction's next. You can't vote, mind- I'm using the ones from the last batch.

I know that I haven't been holding up with the length as much lately, but the shorter chapters means I need less recovery time (Serious. The longer it takes me to write one, about three times as much it takes for me to even start that next. It's like I only get a certain amount of allotted inspiration to spend.)

So… Please review. Please tell me if I've gone to far, or more importantly, if you want me to go further.


	14. The fourth Eviction: The long night

Warning. Contains nudity. And I'm sure a few people are going to be _really _upset about that. 

--------------------------------

**DAY 33- 9.15PM: OS STUDIOS**

Susan regarded herself critically in the mirror.

It wasn't good. Not at all. Even one who was not so terminally pessimistic asherself wouldn't be able to admit otherwise.

With great efforts from experienced hair stylists, her once tight bun of  
hair had been smoothened and curled around her face. Her eyes were  
blackened with liberal amounts of eye-shadow; Apparently you were allowed  
to wear more when performing, but her personal opinion stated that it  
appeared as if she'd entered a fist fight and fared badly. Stacks of sugary  
snacks previously delivered to the purpose of enhancing her performance  
stood banished in a corner, unspoken of.

However, this was all peanuts in comparison to the dress.

She _hated_ the dress.

She received a new one every show, curtsey of Dibbler's pocket. However,  
if each garment had been priced according to the amount of material it  
involved, his tightness was evident once again.

"I should have just continued with the family business..." she muttered, scowling  
with distaste at herself.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Yes...?" she asked boredly, as if life didn't deserve her effort anymore.

"This is Dibbler. Are you decent?"

"I'm dressed, but I don't think that qualifies."

Taking this as an invitation, Dibbler pushed his way in. His eyes gleamed; the constant incoming of money could do that to petty people. "So, Sue, how's it hanging?"

She didn't reply. One, none of his visits were ever to just check up on her  
well being, and two, he had called her Sue. Her name was Susan. A distinct  
difference.

"Good, good. …All ready for the show? Excited?"

"Look, what do you want?" she asked irritably, her stored hatred ready to  
make her rip his throat out with her teeth if the need should arise.

A slightly alarmed look passed over his face for a second, but he covered  
it considerably well. Upon recovery he asked "…How old are you?"

Her eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. "What?"

"Well, I was wondering... you know."

She felt she probably did, but wished she didn't. "What?" she repeated.

"The media would go wild if we started going out. Just think about it. Million dollar Older Sibling producer and the lowly presenter-"

"Only one of us will be going out!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, but-"

"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" she bellowed, causing him to scurry away with  
his metaphorical tail between his legs. She slammed the door behind him with such force it was in danger of being ripped off the hinges; A warning to any others out there who may be thinking of so weakly asking her out.

Forcing her stress levels down with a strong hand, she sat in her chair again, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was not going to be a good day. Of course, ever since she had enlisted to Older Sibling she couldn't remember any good days. It had consumed her life.

"Just four weeks left, I suppose…" she sighed to herself.

In the distance, unheard of by her and the rest of the world, there was a desperate but _very brief _scream.

**DAY 33- 9.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"…Rincewind!"

"Huh? What? What d'you want?" he exclaimed as the boom sounded without previous notification.

"Say your goodbyes, as for losing the fighting task, you will now be evicted from the Older Sibling house."

And then silence fell, sinking upon the housemates like a heavy fog.

"Wasn't that a tad abrupt?" asked Ridcully, to no one in particular.

Rincewind, however, still with the tap running as he was in the process of washing his plate, said nothing.

"We will all miss your company, Rincewind," said Carrot, earnestly.

Once again he said nothing.

Ridcully leant over, finger ready to give the inspecting poke he normally reserved for the Bursar. "Rincewind?"

He was wearing an extremely strange expression. Although it portrayed no emotion  
at all, they all saw as a single tear rolled down his cheek, just like the water that was slowly beginning to seep over the edge of the sink.

A small intrusion into the arm, like a kid might prod an interesting jellyfish with a stick. "Are you all right?"

He nearly fell backwards off his chair as the dam burst and water gushed from his eyes at an increasing flow. "I'm going home!" he bawled, a huge disbelieving grin spreading across his face. "I'm free! I'm actually free!"

"There's no need to rub it in…" muttered Angua, recoiling slightly.

At this point he began skipping around backwards and forwards, reminiscent  
to his 'Grand Duke of Sto-Lat' days. "I'm free! I'm free! The nightmare is  
over! I'm free!"

As if the show for the night was now over, the four of them at the table sunk a little lower, paying no heed to the wizard spending his 'goodbye time' on dashing hyperactively around them.

There was no sound for the next few minutes apart from the jubilance on the side. These little speechless moments as each reflected their own self-pity were gradually increasing in occurrence with time.

And without warning, Angua lowered her head into her arms and began sobbing at a rate to rival Rincewind's.

"Angua!" exclaimed Carrot, hurriedly putting a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"It's never going to end…" she moaned, ashamed at her own sudden wretchedness. "We're going to be stuck in here forever… We're doomed… _doomed…"_

"Calm down, calm down," murmured Carrot, quite lost. It was only on very rare occasions that events could bring Angua to tears, and comforting on-the-edge women was not on his list of expertise. "It's not going to last forever, of course not."

"It will," she insisted. "He's going to make a new rule, just like he did with us not being allowed to leave when we want. We're going to be stuck in here for the rest of our lives, scrutinized and gossiped about and given _stupid little nicknames!"_

"Pish posh and poppycock, he couldn't do that," said Ridcully officially, but a skilled observer would be able to spot the doubt in his eyes.

"He's going to do it, I know he will, we're doomed-"

"Sergeant!" said the Patrician suddenly, causing them to turn. Had he… had he _raised his voice? _"This is not the time for putting yourself in a pit of misery. There are many great hardships that one can experience, and being contained within a house is not the worst of all fates. If Dibbler does decide to keep us in through some form, as it is very likely he shall try, we will just have to attend to the situation as it arises. For now, showing weakness does not help anyone but him."

They all stared. Angua had stopped crying, if only so that she could instead gawp at Vetinari in awe along with the rest of them. That was probably the longest speech he had said upon entering the house. "If you say so, sir.." she replied, rather blandly. She knew he was right, though.

"Mm, Vimes always said to not give them what they want," agreed Ridcully, sagely. "He always liked to annoy Older Sibling and you wouldn't want to go against his wishes..."

"You mean Mister Vimes always _says _not to give them what they want and he always _likes _to annoy Older Sibling," she corrected sternly.

"Same thing."

"This is Older Sibling," said the voice once again. "Rincewind, it's time to leave the Older Sibling house, I'm coming to get yoooooou!"

It disappeared as soon as it had sounded, causing Rincewind to stop with his joyous prancing. "Coming to get me?" he asked, doubtfully. "What's coming to get me?"

"I imagine it's just an expression," said Ridcully. "Be a good man and shove off now."

"I don't know…" said Ridcully, chewing his index finger nervously. "It might not be real… It might just be another task. I mean, it's not the end of the week yet, and they said 'I'm coming to get you'…" The part of his face that wasn't covered in scruffy beard whitened to it's usual shade.

Angua gave pity. They all knew the psychological effect that the house had on them all, but after her recent outburst she couldn't at least pretend that she didn't. "Here Rincewind. I'll come with you to the door."

"Don't try to nip out in his place, will you," voiced Ridcully.

Angua nearly bit off her tongue. Well, there was a plan uncovered and ruined before it had barely even developed. Regardless, she rose to her feet and walked with Rincewind out of the room.

Upon them leaving, Ridcully slumped back in his chair. Silence. Again. The room's other occupants were not doing a lot to make themselves noticed- Carrot simply stared at the table, his eyes focused on a small blackened patch. Vetinari just looked at the newspaper he had fashioned by himself for himself, occasionally taking a sip of his seemingly unending coffee cup.

Ridcully tilted his head to the side, as a thought struck him. "Captain," he said.

Carrot's head jerked up upon being addressed. "Yes, Archancellor Ridcully?"

"Do you know how to play Cripple Mr Onion?"

**DAY 33- 9.50PM: OS STUDIOS**

"We have it under control!" a security guard was exclaiming. "We have it under control, but the creature is highly-"

At that moment, the 'highly' creature happened to burst into the scene. It was most definitely no longer under control, and torn ropes that covered it illustrated so.

Screams emanated.

**DAY 33- 9.50PM: IN THE HOUSE**

It didn't take heightened senses to hear the commotion from outside. Laughter. Cheers. Boos. People trying to sell T-shirts at ten dollars a thread.

The corridor that led out was very long and very narrow. Walking down it brought unusual emotions to Angua. …Back than, walking down on that very first day, she had been so naïve. She hadn't known what was lying in store for her... But that felt like an eternity ago.

"Thanks for coming down with me," said the little wizzard, nearly hidden under the greatness that was his hat.

"It's nothing." …Smells… such intriguing smells surrounding…

It appeared that there was something else Rincewind wanted to say. "Um… Angua..."

"Yes?" It was a mixture, a cocktail of odours, but there was a definite prominence.

"I… Uh, I mean… Uh… It's been really good that… uh…"

"That's nice…" she muttered absently. Yes. It was there, and she knew what it was. After all, coming from where she did, it would be hard for her not to. Even _humans_ who came from Uberwald would be able to recognise _that _smell, even if they didn't exactly realize how.

"And… What I meant was, uh… I don't know if I've made it clear over the past weeks, but…"

They were very close to the door now. "See you round, Rincewind," she said, momentarily bringing herself back into the world of simple senses like sight and sound. "Good luck in the outside world."

The door burst open in a throng of light. Angua stood to the side of the door, allowing Rincewind to receive the spotlight in all its glory. A great unified cry arose, an ear splitting sound.

_The stupid people… _Angua found herself thinking. _It's all just a game for them, but that's alright because they're not the ones who are playing. They're not the pieces, they're just the ones who roll the dice. _

She couldn't help but also feel incredibly jealous. How easy it would be to push the wizard aside and take the exit for herself…

Rincewind, in a different world altogether from the one on offer, turned to look at her. And said something. Something that was lost to the roar of the euphoric crowd.

"I really like you Angua," he said.

She shook her head, as an indicator that she hadn't heard. With a brief sigh, and a fearful intake of breath that balanced it out, Rincewind stepped out into the masses.

And the door closed, trapping Angua from the light.

She fell against the wall. She wasn't paying much thought to working out what Rincewind had tried to say to her- Spitefulness was taking up too much energy to make room for that.

She walked back down to the house again, reluctantly. And thought about the smell of the crowd again.

It was such a strong taste, surely too much for mere air to carry. It was something she had felt whenever she was with her family, and something she found herself feeling whenever faking a life as an ordinary woman produced its toll.

Hunger.

**DAY 33- 10.00PM: OS STUDIOS**

"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The audience echoed Susan's cry.

"OHMYGODS! You all know who it is, and I know you all love him, it's RINCEWIND!"

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Rincewind tried to shield his eyes from the constant flashes from Times reporters surrounding, but this was difficult as he already had one hand in the hand of Susan as he was led onto the stage, one hand shaking the hands of others as he passed, and another hand to prevent hands dragging him off the stage. The last of which he unfortunately didn't have.

"Keep close to me," Susan muttered in a far quieter tone. "Don't let the big guys with tattoos on their heads grab you, and _don't _let the girls in little pink T-shirts grab you. Trust me, they'll skin you to the bone like piranhas."

Rincewind heeded this advice. In all honesty he didn't really want _anyone _to grab him.

But the presenter was managing to keep them at bay. Kicking them in the faces with extreme high heeled shoes in a way that probably only she was allowed to.

"So, Rincewind!" she yelled, as he was seated opposite her in a chair, which he promptly attempted to shrink into. "What can you tell us about your Older Sibling experience?"

"Uh…" He didn't know what to say. It was hard enough attempting to peel his eyes away from the tattooed guys and pink girls; it appeared that they were opposing clans, yet both bent on his destruction if only through different means. "It was… good…"

"But like, was it like, a high powered, top emotion experience?" She gave him a brief apologetic look that suggested she didn't know what it meant, either.

"Uh…" The past weeks. To talk about them now like they were nothing… "Yes," he decided. "Yes, it was, and some."

"Oh my gods! Just what I was thinking! That is like so totally like- what?" she held a hand to her ear, beckoning to the audience.

"That is like so totally wicked!" they chorused in unison.

Ah well, she thought to herself. At least when it was all over, maybe she could get a job in the pantomime business. Then she could be a wicked witch- at least she wouldn't have to act hyper and maybe on occasion be able to eat people.

But then there was a rumbling. A nasty rumbling, that started low and increased in volume and detail as seconds passed. A rumbling that paused the cheering, a rumbling that stopped Susan from asking any more questions, although she didn't present much resistance.

Screams came from the side of the stage. But not the joyous, pointless screams of the crowd. No, these were true screams, carrying out the purpose of the sound. To warn all others that something is coming and it isn't very nice.

"What the-"

And _something_ rushed onto the stage. What, she couldn't really say, but whatever it was it had two men sat on top of it like a bucking bronco, tattered pieces of rope trailing behind it and a few limbs sticking out from it.

While terror enveloped everyone else, Rincewind's face melted into a maskof tired happiness.

**DAY 33- 10.30PM: OS STUDIOS**

Dibbler was not normally a smoker, but that had very recently changed. Recent in the sense of fifteen minutes ago.

"Okay," he repeated, wearily. "Run it past me again. _What _happened?"

The worker before him looked anxiously at the clipboard he was holding. No way in which he presented the words could make them any more acceptable, or plausible for that matter.

"Erm, Rincewind came out of the house, and the presenter sat him down on the chair."

"I gathered that much."

He made a decision and decided to go for the quick, and hopefully, easy technique. "Um. During the questioning, the… thing, that throughout the day Security had been attempting to apprehend, rushed onto the stage, ate several members of the audience, and kidnapped Rincewind." There. It was over. He'd said it.

Dibbler's brow wrinkled. Eaten members of the audience? Those poor people… what was he going to say to their families? How were they going to take the tragic loss? With the help of a lot of money, he sourly imagined. "The… thing?"

"Yes. The Thing."

"You might want to clue me in one this."

The man's mouth opened to frame the words, but it took a second attempt before any sound actually came out. "A huge… moving… box."

"A box."

"Yes."

"That's huge."

"Yes."

"That moves. How? I imagine it scoots around on little wheels, does it?"

"On little legs, actually."

At this point, Sol ducked out of the room and decided it would be a convenient moment for a bathroom break.

**DAY 33- 10.55PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Ridcully was having a great time.

"So how do you want the payments to be made?"

"Oh, cash will do fine when we get out."

Carrot nodded, and then turned his utmost attention to the little slips of paper. They were very crude, but with only five minutes to work with and leftover grease scraped of the bottom of the frying pan to be used as ink, you couldn't really complain.

Realization dawned. "Oh! I've got that card again! The one that means I have to show you my hand."

"That it is. Go on then."

At this, Carrot placed his cards face down on the table, and held his palm out for inspection.

There was a small sucking sound as Ridcully chewed his lips from the inside. "I think I might need to go over these rules with you again, my boy," he said eventually.

Vetinari simply watched with interest. It had been a great wrench of his heart(1) to give up his newspaper in order for them to make the 'cards' out of it, but as he had expected it was the wise thing to do. This was far more entertaining.

"Well, he's gone," said Angua, slamming the door behind her. "I guess the public must have finally become as sick of his potato jokes as we did."

"Mm," said Carrot.

"There were a lot of people out there."

"Mm."

"But there was something really strange about them-"

"Mm…" replied Carrot as he thought, in the manner of all men who are not really listening.

She scowled. What was it with men and betting? "I think I'll go try wake up Vimes, if that's all the same to you.," she said, pouring out a glass of water. She didn't doubt that she'd need it. "Since no one else has bothered yet… You know… He could have died and we wouldn't know… Might as well… "

"Mm…"

"And then afterwards maybe I'll do the flamenco while only wearing a tutu and singing the hedgehog song..."

"Mm," Carrot replied simply again. However Vetinari's eyebrows raised slightly.

---------------------------------------------

(1)It did exist, but was just a very specialised piece of equipment.

----------------------------------------------

**DAY 33- 11.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"-Ohmygodsi'vekilledthebloodybastard!" Vimes exclaimed as he sat bolt upright, catching up with the past. A look of confusion crossed over his face as he glanced around. "Oh."

"How many fingers am I holding up, sir?" said a voice which he identified to be belonging to Angua.

He squinted. "No idea. It's pitch black in here. What happened?"

Angua tilted her head from side to side. "…What's the last thing you remember?"

He grimaced. You knew that good news was never going to follow a question like that. "…I remember punching the Patrician in the stomach, as much as I wouldn't like to."

"Ah. And you're probably wanting to know what happened after that."

"Yes, I am."

"Well then," she said, straightening up. "I think it would be better that you asked _him _that question, sir."

"What?" he said, as she exited the room, leaving him in the dark. "What do you mean? And why am I all wet? Sergeant? Angua? ANGUA!"

**DAY 33- 11.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"_Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"_

"He said we'd just start small since I was a beginner," explained Carrot, as Vimes searched around desperately for a towel in the background.

"Carrot, I'm not sure if you know this, but you haven't _got _two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

"Yes, but I might do someday, and we agreed that whenever I get my pay half of it will go to Ridcully."

Under the heated glare of Angua Ridcully steamed slightly. He gave a small wave.

"He was very kind about it," Carrot added.

Vetinari simply continued to watch. This was better than theatre. In fact in his opinion it was infinitely better, shown by the way he hadn't had them all hung yet.

Vimes was staring out of the window. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Nearly midnight," said Carrot.

Vimes shook his head. "Mm. I'm not sure whether I appreciate being woken up only to be told it's time for bed."

"You're not going to bed, are you Vimes? We were just about to play Strip Onion!"

There was a different kind of silence this time. Not one generated by a lack of things to say, but there because after a statement like that there wasn't anything that really _needed _to be said. The expressions cast at Ridcully held more value than mere syllables ever could.

**DAY 33- 11.35PM: OS STUDIOS**

"My gods…" whispered Dibbler to himself, leaning closer to the glass. "I'm dreaming. It must be dreaming. This isn't real. Sol, pinch me."

There was a complete lack of pinching. Dibbler turned and surveyed the room to see that his nephew was absent. It seemed that his time in the restroom had been extended. He shrugged; it wasn't his loss that Sol would miss what would probably be the best footage ever to be seen on the Dysk.

"He's not going to manage it…" he whined, as the sad truth developed. "The sad boring gits aren't going to agree… They must really hate me."

**DAY 33- 11.35PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"_What?"_

"Well, we have cards, don't we?" the Archancellor explained, defensively, running with a wild idea. "Always a lot of fun, I've heard. Late night game. Stop us being bored. What with there being nothing to do…"

Vimes laughed derisively. "Maybe not for you, but personally 'sleep' was pretty high on my agenda."

"You've just been out for near three hours, commander."

Vimes shot a peculiar look at the Patrician, not without venom. Surely he wasn't supportive?

"What are the rules for 'Strip Onion'?" inquired Carrot, innocently.

"Don't even bother, Carrot," Vimes warned. "Don't get sucked in."

"I agree," said Angua, nodding. "Strip games are only developed from man's love of mockery."

"This is Older Sibling," the voice interrupted. There seemed to be a breathless, hurried quality to it for some reason. "Older Sibling demands that the housemates agree with Ridcully's idea of playing strip onion, or they shall be punished. Thank you."

"That was surprisingly fast," said Vetinari.

"Their reflexes for the fist sign of sauciness must have improved," muttered Vimes. "They can stuff it. I'm going to bed."

"But then we'll be punished!" Carrot stated, anxiously.

Angua turned to Vimes, hesitantly. She looked clueless. But that was the problem with being the commander, even when you weren't at work, wasn't it… People always tended to look to you.

"Alright then," he said angrily, pulling a chair out and seating himself on it with a thud. "Let's get this damn thing over and done with."

"Capital!"

Angua followed his cue, if somewhat more slowly. Carrot pulled his chair in and sat ready to be enlightened of the rules eagerly.

Upon being so, his face fell with abashed horror.

**DAY 33- 11.45PM: IN THE HOUSE**

_If I had been allowed to bring in my entire Watch uniform with me,_ Vimes thought to himself, _This game might have been a lot easier._

The middle of the table was beginning to become quite clustered. In the middle lay four individual drawer compartments removed from Ridcully's hat, a pair of shoelaces with boots to follow from Vimes, a sock and a bracelet from Angua, and a single signet ring from Vetinari.

Carrot was doing remarkably well. Astonishingly, in fact. It seemed to be pure will that was allowing him to win, as the severity of the pink shade in his ears suggested.

"How long does this go on for?" growled Vimes, pulling a button off his shirt and placing it on the table grudgingly.

"Whenever everyone aggress that the game is over," explained Ridcully, dealing out the cards.

Hmph. Whether it was sexual frustration or a true boyish attitude he couldn't tell, but regardless Vimes could not help but think that due to Ridcully, this game would go one for quite some time.

**DAY 33- 12.20PM: IN THE HOUSE**

It hadn't got any better, as anyone might have surmised.

It was very difficult for the Watch members. After being in a job where day after day your clothing is decided for you, you become less concerned about what you wear otherwise. This was obvious from looking at the three of them, quite simply just wearing shirts and trousers.

Now in the centre there had been more recently added one coat, one cravat, one wizarding hat, one wizarding sash, one wizarding robe, twelve buttons, one shirt, one handkerchief, three pairs of socks, and five pairs of shoes.

"Hey, I think we've gone far enough. Fancy stopping now?" asked Vimes, upon looking at his new hand.

"I am quite fine with continuing," stated Vetinari quite simply. He was still comfortably dressed, which was extremely annoying.

Carrot gave an involuntary shiver. His winning streak had come to a severe halt, allowing him now to realize how _cold _it was in the house, especially so when there was nothing to protect your bare torso from it.

"Looks like you've got the worst hand, Vimes," said Ridcully, in a cheerful manner.

Vimes' face wrinkled with contempt. He pulled his arms out of his shirt and grudgingly threw his it into the centre of the table. It hadn't been serving as much of a draught excluder, what with all of its buttons missing, but it was the _principal _of the matter.

Him and Carrot were equally losing now. Angua was coming next, and Vetinari was winning, but that went without saying.

The problem was, there weren't many options left for the Watchmen to take.

**DAY 33- 12.40PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Angua was in dire jeopardy. People sat in just their underwear most often tend to be.

And she had been dealt a bad onion.

"Come on, let's stop now," said Vimes upon spotting her expression. It might have been thought a little too protective the way he was acting with her in the house, but she was the most supportive person for him in there. "This has gone too far."

Carrot just sat there, his face so pink it looked like it was going to go up in a raspberry-like explosion. At least he wasn't shivering anymore as the heat emanating from his flushed skin would be enough to warm a small village forthe night.

"Rules are rules, Vimes," said Ridcully, flicking a few cards in front of him.

Vetinari did not look angry or annoyed, but he did not look quite so amused as before. From the outside he appeared to be in a neutral state, which was quite commendable considering the fact that he was now in, for want of better words, his vest and undies.

Vimes looked at what he had been given.

Horrors.

It didn't matter whatever Angua had compared to this.

It was all over now, for him. And not just the game. Much more than that.

Ridcully had seen Vimes' backside before, a year or so ago after his little screw up with the past. But that hadn't mattered so much back then, partially because his family had been threatened and he'd be damned if he didn't save them, wobbly bits or no, and partially because he and Ridcully had hardly known each other back then and he hadn't known so much what a true git he was

Without a word said, and daring anyone to make a sound in his absence, Vimes lowered a hand to remove his final piece of clothing.

**DAY 34- 0.05AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Five people were sat at the table.

One of these people had their arms crossed definitely across their chest.

Three of these people had their hands discreetly lowered.

One of these people expressed an unusually small amount of smugness considering the position they were in.

It was Ridcully who finally brought out the big question. "Come on now, can we have our clothes back yet?"

Vetinari considered this. "Hmm… No."

And he turned back to his coffee, for all the world as if they weren't there.

-------------------------------------------------------

Well, you said to go further.

Okaydokey… lets have some votes! I'm sure I don't need to remind you how it works now.

Please tell me what you think of the story as well.


	15. Week 6 part1: A Cheesy Special

A cheesy special. But that's okay. I like cheese.

As long as it's not that weird blue veined crap.

------------------------------------

**DAY 35- 11:30AM: OS STUDIOS**

"Good morning, people," announced Dibbler with a wide smile, entering the viewing room within the walls in a brisk manner.

"Mmf," murmured a chorus of all night workers. Their faces were not large enough to carry the extreme weight of the bags under their eyes.

"Good, good. Any of them up yet?"

"Mmf."

"The lazy buggers. I don't care if they were up virtually all night; the human mind does not need half as much rest as people keep complaining it does. There's no profit in a sleeping body."

At this, a horde of mutinous purple eyes turned to face him. They had gathered.

"Right. So Sol, what's the news on the viewing numbers? I bet the Times went mad over that delight from last night…"

He waited, yet for some reason there was no irritated negative remark.

"Sol?" he said, looking around. And no, there was no small figure hidden behind a newspaper in a Vetinari-like manner. "Where the hell is he?"

"Maybe he's getting some rest," volunteered one spitefully.

"I pay you for your nosiness, not your opinion." Dibbler scowled, walking over to his nephew's normal spot. Thinking about it, had Sol actually ever returned ever since he left for the bathroom the previous night? Either something important had detained him, or constipation had reached a new level. "All right, I'll look in the newspaper _myself…" _he muttered, picking up one that had been left on the desk. There was silence as he scanned the paper. "Wait. Is this _today's _newspaper?"

"Mmf."

A smile spread across his face like butter. "…This is fantastic. How could I have not thought about it before? How could I have not noticed the great opportunity today gives us?"He rubbed his hands together excitably. "Not fantastic. _Wonderful. _I can picture the headlines already… 'Love is in the air in the Older Sibling house'. Well, something like that. It seems that de Worde won't accept any big print longer than three words nowadays.

"But just think about it," he continued with his monologue, apparently deluded that the surrounding people had any interest in what he was saying at all. "We've got it covered, on the love part. Yesterday we had the saucy naughtiness, and today we have the true romance." He smiled again. Now all he had to do was think of a way in which he could exploit the good natured holiday…

DAY 35- 11.45AM: IN THE HOUSE 

Groggily in the morning, as she was wont, Angua awoke far earlier than everyone else. This was so that she may cook breakfast for everyone. She didn't know why she was so keen all of a sudden, as before her life in Older Sibling she had avoided the stove like an enemy, but now… Maybe it was because they all liked her cooking so much. Or maybe it was because it gave her something to do. Or maybe because it made her feel needed. Maybe because it gave her a _purpose._

And so, in the clothes that she had slept in (and gratefully, after Vetinari had finally allowed their return), she wandered into the kitchen, more by memory than sight as her eyes were glued together with the weird yellow stuff that resides there in early hours, and reached into the fridge.

And screamed.

"What? What?" shouted Vimes bursting into the kitchen looking like death warmed up(1). "What's happened?"

"They're trying to kill us!" she exclaimed, still blind and clutching desperately at her hand.

Carrot, third to rush in, took her hand and gave it a brief check. "Just a few marks. Nothing serious…"

Vimes however, went to the fridge. Damn that fridge, he never had trusted it.

"Well, Vimes?" asked Ridcully. "What have they put in there?"

Vimes straightened, carrying an oddly shaped thing in his hands. "It's a pineapple."

Slight confusion.

"A pineapple?" asked Ridcully, scratching his beard.

"Yes, that's what I said."

There was a pause. "Can you put Wow-wow sauce on it?"

Vimes chucked the fruit against the floor, causing it to bounce onto Ridcully's bare foot.

"Why would they want to give us a pineapple?" asked Carrot, thoughtfully. "Couldn't be a task, could it?"

"How on earth would you be able to do a task with a _pineapple?" _said Ridcully, rubbing his foot.

"I wouldn't put I past Dibbler," muttered Vimes. "And don't say stuff like that. It only gives him incentive."

"I would surmise that it is a sign," said Vetinari, who had apparently materialised at the dining table seconds ago. "Something relevant."

_Oh, there's no bloody 'surmising' for you, really though, _Vimes thought with a scowl. _You bloody know what this is about, somehow, don't you. But you're not going to tell us. No, you're just going to give us stupid little clues and leave us to look like idiots, aren't you, because it's more fun that way._

"I say, there are more in here," said Ridcully, pulling a bunch out. Carefully.

"How many are there?" asked Carrot.

"Um. Five."

"One for each of us."

_That has to hold some significance, _thought Vimes, his mind flicking away furiously at what it might be.

"Are we meant to eat them, perhaps?"

Carrot shook his head. "That would be too simple. Older Sibling isn't so kind about the food it supplies."

Something deeper… 

The trouble was, his mind wasn't working properly. He was not able to think outside the box, literally. His mind was now only used to focusing on in-house matters, and all the happenings of the outside world were a distant happy dream…

_Pineapples, pineapples. Something to do with _pineapples, _of all things…_

"Something relevant to this day, I would imagine," mused Vetinari.

It clicked. So hard that it nearly snapped off. "St Talonvine's day!" Vimes bellowed.

Ridcully winced as his eardrums attempted to heal. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"It's the St Talonvine's pineapple!" he exclaimed, lifting one up for them to see. He then re-thought it and pulled his sleeve over his bare hand.

Angua walked in again, having had a well needed face wash. "St Talonvine's?" she asked. "Surely not. It's ages until then…"

"Hah. Time flies when you're having Fun."

Carrot looked slightly dismayed. "St Talonvine's…" he murmured. "I don't really know how it goes. All I know is that it's about love, but as you probably know love is very…" he struggled for a word, "_practical _amongst us dwarves."

Ridcully stared with bemusement. He recalled being introduced to Carrot's terminal condition of happening to be a dwarf, yet he still couldn't quite get his head around it. Ridcully was very much one to call a spade a spade, for if spades started calling themselves buckets you started to get in an awkward situation you really didn't need.

"St Talonvine's…" struggled Vimes, himself not too sure on the story. As a kid he had just known that on St Talonvine's you give pineapples to people you liked. Why was a matter that didn't concern him; tradition was allowed to be bonkers.

"St Talonvine's day is a tradition that originated from Quirm," Angua explained, "And it migrated to Ankh-Morpork because they figured that the sales would be better here. The way it goes is that once a year you get a pineapple and you give it to the one you love… At least, that's what people used to do. Nowadays people give each other presents and chocolates; only really old people do the pineapple thing now."

Angua sensed three heated glares on the back of her neck, probably belonging to the three pineapplers who didn't appreciate having their youths torn away from them in such a blasé manner.

"At least," she finished, deciding it would probably be better to finish, "That's as much as I know."

"The holiday has a deeper meaning," said Vetinari, with a slight dark annoyance in his voice at the Watch sergeant. "In Quirm there was once a law against soldiers marrying, as marriage was said to make them go soft. St Talonvine disagreed with this, and so he married the soldiers in secret. Eventually he was caught and beheaded."

"But where do the pineapples come from in this?" asked Vimes.

"Apparently he was a keen gardener."

"Ah."

----------------------------------------------

(1)This expression does not make sense, and I am only using it for convenience's sake. Vimes did not look anything like Death warmed up, as Death has often needed to visit hot countries, and when he does so the only difference to his normal state is that he may be wearing a sombrero. Vimes did not rush into the kitchen wearing a sombrero(2), and so the expression is meaningless.

(2) As this may have caused some understandably very odd looks indeed.

-------------------------------------------

**DAY 35- 12.10AM: OS STUDIOS**

"What's this?" said Dibbler, snatching a piece of paper away.

"Get off that!" Sol exclaimed. He hadn't heard him sneaking into the room, how had he done that? Probably the god of Nosiness blessing him once again, he figured. "That's mine! I've been working on that for the past four hours!"

"Yes, I can see that. A line for each hour. Whoever she is, she's gonna feel honoured. But she should, shouldn't she, what with you wasting time on her that you should be using working for _me._"

Sol stopped, a look of tired desperation in his features. Shouting at him was not going to make Dibbler give it back, that would only make him go further. "Please, unc," he pleaded, taking this alternative option instead. His hopes were not high. "Please don't read it."

Dibbler looked at him. "This is really important to you?" he asked, with something that sounded very near genuine feeling.

Sol gave a small nod.

Dibbler nodded in return. "Well… let's see exactly _how _honoured." He held it up to his face, pushing back Sol as he resorted to trying to grab it. "_'I've seen you here and now and then, and new you were the true one, my heart's for you until the end, my dear and greatest-"_

And then Sol did something he would very likely regret in the unfortunately-not-too-distant-future.

"GET BACK HERE!" he heard Dibbler's calling as he raced down the corridor, poem in hand. "HOW DARE YOU HIT YOUR OWN UNCLE! I'VE TAUGHT YOU EVERY THING YOU KNOW! YOU'RE FIRED!"

Considering matters, that wasn't really the _worst _of consequences that could have met him.

DAY 32- 1.00PM: IN THE HOUSE 

Carrot sat at the dinner table, silently, staring intently at his pineapple as if waiting for it to make the first move.

"But… it's only a pineapple…" he said, for what must have been the fourteenth time.

"It doesn't really matter _what _it is," said Vimes, a full milk carton in his hand. "As cheesy as it sounds, a token of love is a token of love, and not really anything else. It could be an orange. It could be a bowl of kippers. It could be a bloody organ, for all it matters, but whatever it is we give it to people because we always have done."

"Hmm," came the thoughtful, condescending sound that could only be made by the Patrician. "Continuation of tradition? What an unusual thing to hear you of all people agreeing to… 'Stoneface'."

Vimes fell into his characteristic scowl, not only because of what had been said, but more importantly who it had been said by. "Just because a tradition is pointless that doesn't necessarily mean you have to rebel against it. I don't know if you've noticed, but there are a few subtle differences between power-hungry monarchs and pineapples."

"Name one," said Angua.

"This is Older Sibling. Would the housemates assemble in the living room."

"What's that?" said Ridcully. "We're allowed back in again?"

Vimes wiped the milk from his mouth, much to Angua's disgust, with his sleeve. "I would think so. Either that or they want to have a laugh watching us walk slap-bang into a locked door."

**DAY 32- 1.05PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Ugh."

That was the general opinion of the room, in all its bluntness. Whatever thoughts Talonvine had possessed when wondering what would be made of his actions, he probably hadn't expected them to generally consist of pink.

It was the type of pink that would make a flamingo stop and think 'No, that is just too much'.

The five housemates were sat on small pink pillows on the pink floor, looking around at the Frankenstein's monster of all décor.

There was also a scent in the air, but such a word seemed to light to describe it. It was a smell that went to such extremes Angua had to lift the front of her top over her nose just to stop it exploding.

Vimes clutched his pineapple against his body like a shield.

"This is Older Sibling," said the voice, with a noticeable waviness that was obviously the most festivity they would dare put into the blandness. "If the housemates would please notice that there is a blindfold before each of them."

They already had noticed the blindfolds, despite their attempts to blur into the background. They were pink.

"Please would the housemates turn around so that they face outwards from the circle, and put their blindfolds on."

This was not done without hesitation. Each person looked around at everyone else before they did so; just to make sure that they were all doing the same thing and it wasn't a cruel trick being played on them in particular. What with this being done by everyone it took a long time until the simple command was carried out.

"I don't like this," said Angua, quietly.

"As don't I," said Ridcully. "As don't I."

"Please would housemate number one remove their blindfold, and stand up."

Vimes heard a rustling from somewhere behind. They had each been given a number and had been forbidden to tell each other what theirs was; they had also been forbidden from writing down what it was, inadvertently sneezing what it was, or shouting aloud in a tourettes syndrome manner what it was. Despite being annoyed Vimes was mildly impressed. They had wised up to him.

"Please would the first housemate give their pineapple to their Talonvine. You have seven seconds."

Damn it. So that's how they were playing it… not that he hadn't expected it. Very clever. The person receiving the pineapple wouldn't know who had given it them. Nobody would… apart from the millions watching, that is.

Now the question Vimes couldn't help ask but ask himself was- Would he be upset if he didn't get one.

No, of course not.

Well.

Well…

Maybe just a little bit.

But who was he kidding- Angua was going to get nearly all of them. It was inevitable, what with her being the only female in the house.

Nearly inevitable.

"Thank you, housemate number one. You may now sit back down and put your blindfold back on." Slight pause. "Housemate number two, please would you follow the same commands as given to housemate one."

Wait a minute, there was a flaw in this plan… Whoever housemate number two was, if they happened to chance a look around they would be able to see whoever the last housemate has been. Not very well thought out, really.

Unless…

Unless it was actually _very _well thought out.

Vimes knew the way that Dibbler's mind worked. A simple little 'pass-the-pineapple' game wouldn't satisfy him, would it. That wouldn't be enough. No, he'd want something a little different… Something with a saucy twist… Something that would keep you _guessing… _

He was so deep in thought that he was surprised when he felt a pineapple drop into his lap. It was all he could to suppress a small cry of shock; from surprise and the prickles.

"Please would housemate number three rise."

He couldn't help but feel slightly elated. Someone actually _liked _him…

But elated wasn't the emotion he kept upon another pineapple being dropped onto his lap.

This was getting a little ridiculous. He had three now, including his original one. It seemed he was popular. But that wasn't a very good thing, considering. A bad thing would be if Angua had given him one of them, as she was in a relationship while he was happily married. It would also be a bad thing if one of the other men had given him one, which unfortunately, one inevitably had.

And it would be a _very _bad thing if it had been two men who had given him one. Not to mention very strange.

"Would housemate number four please rise."

That was him. Very carefully, ensuring that fruit did not scatter in all directions, Vimes took his blindfold away and rose to his feet.

Seven seconds… that wasn't enough time at all. Damn it, he should have been thinking more about who he was going to give _his _to, rather than spending valuable thought on the subject of the sudden gay icon he had apparently become.

And he also wanted to have a look at everyone else on the pineapple score, taking into consideration ones that might have been given and ones that they already had, as people with the least pineapples must have given one away already…

Angua had one. That was quite surprising, or at least he would have thought so earlier.

Vetinari didn't have any. That was… interesting, he decided to stick with for now. He would think of a more suitable description with more profanities at a later date.

Carrot had one. He didn't know what to think about that.

Ridcully didn't have any. Please, gods, no.

While he, Vimes, had three.

And he had to give one away.

"Housemate number four, your seven seconds are up. Please give your pineapple away immediately."

Dibbler could stuff it; there were more important problems for him to consider. Marriage related ones, for a start.

He could give one to Angua, taking the safe bet with the one and only woman. But that would destroy Sybil forever.

But everyone else was out of bounds…

"Please give away your pineapple."

Well, Sybil knew that he didn't like men. Surely it wouldn't be an insult to her if he gave it to one of them…?

"Give away your pineapple NOW."

On a whim, Vimes tossed it into Vetinari's lap.

Damnit, that was a bad choice. A very bad choice. He doubted he'd be allowed to take it back again and have another go.

"Thank you. Please sit back down and put your blindfold back on."

He complied, feeling miserable.

"Please would housemate number five rise."

Thankfully, number five did not propose their love to him as well. Although popularity was nice, like with anything, it was only so with the right dosage.

"Thank you. The St Talonvine's pineapple task is now over. You may now remove your blindfolds. Older Sibling leaves it up to each housemate whether or not to reveal their choice of Talonvine."

Ridcully whipped off his, looking slightly put out. "Humph. I didn't get any."

"Neither did I," said Carrot, in an odd voice. Vimes could not help but think about this. Angua hadn't given hers to him? Either she'd been one to give it to him (he was already putting words together on how to politely turn her down) or she'd given one to the Patrician…

But, as he looked, he saw that Vetinari only had one. The one that he had given him.

Damn it… What was she _thinking?_

"Looks like someone has 'the hots' for you, Vetinari," said Ridcully, looking as though he was trying to take his mind off his own misfortune. "Any idea who it might be?"

"I am without a clue…" he replied. But he sounded far to knowledgeable for someone allegedly with no idea.

"Two," said Angua, as if she didn't know what to make of it. "Erm. Thanks," she said, rather generally.

"What's this, Vimes?" said Ridcully, slightly dumbfounded. "You have two _as well?"_

"Erm, yeah," he murmured. After all, he could hardly deny it.

There was a slight bout of staring.

"It's just a stupid task," he said, dismissively rising to his feet and walking out of the room.

**DAY 35- 1.30PM: OS STUDIOS**

Dibbler watched.

But there was something missing.

He should have been happy; this was more than he could have hoped for. Forbidden love, broken relationships, a lot of explaining to do… he really was a genius when it came to these tasks.

So why was he feeling like this?

He glanced around to make sure that there was no one else around.

"I can't see how you receive pleasure from watching other people suffer," he said.

"Shut up, the audience'll love it, and they're the ones who're paying," he replied to himself.

That filled the gap a little bit.

**DAY 35- 2.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Sir?"

Vimes was lying face down on his mattress, a little earlier than could be perceived as ordinary. "Yes, sergeant?" he sighed.

"I just wanted to explain about the pineapple. I'm sure you've worked out that I gave you mine."

"No, I'm such an idiot I didn't work that out," he muttered. He realised that he was angry and already being unreasonable, but the time he'd had to think it over had built the situation up into something much bigger than it should have been.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" she said, frustratedly. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I don't know why you didn't just give it to Carrot. He loves you, you know."

"…I know. But I didn't think he'd need me to give him a foreign fruit in order to return the favour. He's being cold with me too, just like you are."

Vimes didn't say anything. He was beginning to think he was running out of oxygen what with having his face down for so long, but lifting his head up and gasping for air right now was not an option.

"There's a reason I gave it to you, you know."

"And what is that?"

"Because… Because I thought… well, you've been on the edge of your emotions at the moment in here-"

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"-And I gave it to you because I thought you'd be upset if you didn't get one."

There was a pause, and Vimes very slowly lifted his head up and looked at her. "You're saying… That you hurt your boyfriend because you thought that no one would think about giving poor old Vimes a bloody pineapple."

"Sir-"

"You put my _marriage _in danger because you felt _sorry for me?" _he asked. "Do you have any idea what Sybil's going to think about this? The Times will have already been going insane putting ideas of fake relationships between you and me into the publics mind, without you giving them a log for their fire."

"…Sam, I'm sorry. I made a mistake."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Commander Vimes," he simply corrected quietly, before turning away.

Angua sat there, staring at his back. She could feel herself getting upset, but she wasn't going to allow herself. She would match unreasonableness with unreasonableness.

"By the way," she said, before walking away. "I was the second person, and I saw that Ridcully gave me his. That means Vetinari was the one who gave you your second one."

"Thank you for that, sergeant."

And both of them simultaneously trying to quell the feeling that they had been too harsh, she left the room.

**DAY 35- 2.45PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Carrot-"

"Angua, I'm sorry," said Carrot before she could say anything.

This took the words out of her mouth. "E-Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry I've been cold towards you since the task," said Carrot, looking genuinely so. "I understand what you did, and I think that it was right and very kind of you, even if it didn't work."

"How… How do you know?"

"Lord Vetinari told me."

Ah, well. That explained it. After all, Vetinari knew everything about you; even the things that _you _didn't know. "…I'm sorry too. I didn't want to hurt you. But now Vimes is being… difficult."

"It's alright. He'll get over it," he said, taking her slightly by surprise as he wrapped his arms around her. "After all. They're only pineapples."

**DAY 35- 3.20PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Susan walked away from the hair and make-up artists, feeling somewhat like a dressed up doll. How nice it would be to bring out the deep tones and strike fear into their very souls…but she figured that might just lead to a pay cut.

"Erm… Susan?"

It was a small voice that she felt that she'd heard before, but was not too familiar with. She turned around, ready with death in her eyes should it be another designer about to correct a curl of hair that had fallen out of place.

It wasn't. It was a young man who she had seen hanging around Dibbler before. Probably another behind the scenes worker.

"Erm, I… I…" Gods, he'd seen her from a distance and was entranced, but up close she was… magnificent… "I… just wanted to give you this…"

Much to her bewilderment a pineapple (the spikes smoothed down to prevent injury) and a box of chocolates was thrust into her hands, along with a small card.

"I wrote it myself," he added quickly. "The card, I mean. Not the pineapple."

She simply gave him a look, and opened it up. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "'I've seen you here and now and then, and new you were the true one, my heart's for you until the end, my dear and greatest Susan'?"

"Erm, yes. Erm, what do you think?"

She didn't reply. It was probably better that way.

"Please… Susan… Will you be my Talonvine?"

She regarded him with a skilled eye. It hadn't been long before that she'd been badly chatted up by Dibbler, and this attempt wasn't much of an improvement, but…

As much as she normally forbade herself from even thinking the word, she had to admit that it was quite cute.

"You can take these," she said, handing back the card and the pineapple, "But thank you for these." And she walked away. After all, a box of chocolates was a box of chocolates, whichever way you looked at it.

Sol could not help but stare are she walked away. She… she'd actually talked to him! And she'd said that she would be his Talonvine! Well, not verbally, and she didn't take the pineapple or the poem, but one out of three was still more than nothing.

He leant against the nearest wall, a warmth enveloping him that money could never give. On all accounts, those few seconds had been worth his job.


	16. Week 6 part 2: The Deeper Meaning

I might have to up the age rating on this thing.

Now don't look at me like _that. _I said might.

And don't get your hopes up.

---------------------------------------

**DAY 36- 7.15AM: IN THE HOUSE**

There was something about the table in the kitchen. It was like a conference room, despite the fact that the bare minimal of things were said. It was a time for reflection, for thought, for reviewing your position in the House and the others around you, and trying to work your mental being into a state in which you might _not_ commit suicide.

Angua put the coffee down in front of Vimes in a very pointful manner, he noticed. She did it in a way that suggested 'I'm not being spiteful at all even though we've fallen out', that was wholly more spiteful than if she had neglected him.

That was the problem with women, he thought. Men didn't tend to go for as much subtlety, tending to opt instead for a swift punch in the schnozz. But the female technique was considerably worse. Women had signs. Women's points were made more through the things they _didn't _do and _didn't _say. Your whole relationship with a woman hanged on the reading of a raised eyebrow.

He took a drink. It defiantly did not taste bitter.

...What was he going to do? He knew his emotions. He was straight, and married to boot. But Vetinari... well... he was an odd case. Vimes couldn't really picture him in a relationship with a man, but to be honest he couldn't really picture him in a relationship with _anybody. _Vetinari was above relationships. They happened to other people.

It's probably a test, Vimes thought. He knows what he's doing. But if it _wasn't _just an innocent evil plot... Well, the man had a frightening habit of getting what he wanted.

Veni, Vidi, Vici... Vetinari.

"Thank you, Angua," said Carrot as the coffee was passed to him.

Underneath the cheerful exterior, Carrot was deeply worried. This house was doing things to people, and they weren't the good chaps that he had once known. He was trying to work out whether _he_ was still himself, which is a thing no person should ever have to do.

And there was a more important, long lasting effect too. The house was having dire effects on him, Vimes and Angua, and he could only hope that these wounds would not turn into life long scars. The House had the potential to tear up the Watch, and the Watch was his priority. In this case, personal was the same as important. Here there was _only _personal.

And there was also the looming knowledge that soon he would have to reveal his secret to the others.

"Mm, thank you, Angua."

_Vetinari, _Ridcully thought. Now there was a sticky situation.

So the Patrician had given Vimes his pineapple. He hadn't heard it in such simple words, but as blunt in manner as he was, that didn't mean he mind wasn't sharp. The coldness in the house said it all, along with the way that Vimes never actually let his eyes rest on Vetinari to an extent that was unnatural. There was definitely something going on, and deductment had told him the truth.

But that wasn't what was bothering him. The Commander and the Patrician could get up to whatever they liked, in his opinion, as long as they did it behind closed doors. What he couldn't understand was, if Vetinari liked Vimes, then how did he feel about Esmerelda? The two of them had only got on far too well to be comfortable. But surely, the Patrician _knew _that him and Esme went back. Way, way back, in fact, as this is possible when you're a wizard. Did Vetinari not care? Or was the truth that in fact he wasn't interested in her at all, being of the slightly curved persuasion, and he had only been making a relationship with her in order to bring pain to Ridcully?

He had to admit that the two had looked good together, like two silent ravens. And besides, although to any wizard being the Archchancellor was the highest rank imaginable, to everyone else he was just a man in a silly hat compared to the ruler of Ankh-Morpork.

"Thank you, sergeant."

Vetinari surveyed the table behind steepled fingers.

He was worried too.

Oh, not because of any relationship troubles or arguments about pineapples. He could leave the other to squabble about that to their hearts content. He felt that having something to do would be good for them. No, the trouble was that he felt lost. For the first time in his life (he didn't consider his time at the Guild of Assassins to qualify as 'Life') he didn't know exactly what was happening in the world around him.

He knew that he didn't know everything. A conversation with Leonard could do that to anyone, but as much a genius the man was, he didn't know the subtle intricacies of the human mind, or the state of affairs in Klatch, or what exactly was in Dibbler's Meat Pies(1). But the world around him was changing, outside this infernal prison cell, and he couldn't do anything to change it. He didn't even know what there was_ to _be changed.

Was this how other people felt? How the bakers and the watchmen and the butlers and the thieves went throughout their lives, blind to the world? How did they seem so happy? So content? Did they have something he didn't have? Was he missing something?

"Thanks Angua!"

This burst caused the table to nearly tip over. Chairs flew back against the walls as people leapt to their feet. No one in the house had that amount of pep at this time in the morning.

Ridcully was the first to correctly rewire his mouth to his brain. "...Who the devil are you?"

"Oh my gods! This is the best day of my life! I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet you all!"

Vimes looked down as the stranger promptly fixed themself to his waist in a great hug. "...Get it off me!"

"Excuse me, Miss Christine, but could you please let the Commander go?" asked Carrot politely.

"Huh?" The girl looked up at him. "Captain Carrot! Captain Carrot, you know my name!"

"And that surprises you?" asked Angua.

"Gods, this is incredible! It's really you! Captain Carrot! I love you!" And she then leapt up into Carrot's arms, which was quite a feat considering his arms were by his sides.

"Who are you?" asked Vimes, rubbing his sore ribs. "Not your name. I mean what are you _doing _here."

"Me? I'm your new housemate! Christine! Dibbler wanted me to come and that's great because I love you all and you're all great and fantastic and I watched you every day and now my dreams have been fulfilled because I always wanted to meet you all and I can't wait to win and I think that the pineapples were really sweet and I can't believe I'm actually meeting you and-"

"Don't you think you should be breathing?" said Angua.

"Personally I'm not too fussed," said Vimes, but then he remembered that they Weren't Talking To Each Other, and that included adding sardonic remarks onto each others sentences. "I mean, it's your choice."

"That's very nice, Christine, we're glad to have you with us," said Carrot, while trying to untangle her limbs from around his neck. It was like trying to untangle piece of sellotape from itself. "How long are you staying? A day? A week?"

"Why, no, silly! I'm staying until the very end!"

Vimes' face fell further down than it already was, which one might have previously thought to be impossible. "You mean you're permanent? You stay here until you get voted off like the rest of us?"

"Yeah!"

He gave a sigh, and then tilted his head to face the ceiling, as if speaking to god. "Is this meant to be another task?"

---

(1) He was probably the only person on the entire disk to know this, and it was a feat he was proud of. Not even Dibbler was sure what was in his pies, and Vetinari wasn't about to let the information slide to anyone. They were happier that way.

---

**DAY 36- 9.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"So what's going on outside?"

Getting information out of Christine was not like trying to get blood out of a stone. That was easy. What was hard was trying to hear it amidst the many shrieks and find it within the jumble of exclamation marks.

"Umm... Dibbler told me I'm not supposed to tell you...!"

"But you will, won't you," said Angua.

"Yeah! Sure! Why not!"

Vetinari, who was pretending not to be listening, could not help but find himself leaning in slightly as the beans were not only spilt, but scattered about flying in all directions.

"Whose favorite to win?" asked Ridcully.

"Oh, that changes every day!" she squeaked. "Sometimes It's the Patrician, sometimes it's Vimes-"

At this point Vimes' head jerked up. "People are keeping me in?"

"Oh, sure!"

An odd expression crept over his face. He'd never conceived that people out there were actually _liking _him. He'd been using his best efforts to be a moody bastard so that he could get out of there as soon as possible.

"How's the Watch?" asked Carrot.

"Huh?" she tilted her head to one side, giving a very good impression of someone in thought. "What Watch?"

There were three different harmonies of groan.

"Anyways, the city's not doing too bad! I mean, there's a lot of crime around, but Lord Rust is doing his best to remedy this!"

"Why do you say Rust?" asked the Patrician, quietly.

"Rust? Because he's in charge of the city at the minute, silly billy!"

This time there were two groans.

"We have to get out of here," said Vimes, his hand over his face. "All of us. We're all important! Ankh-Morpork needs us all!"

"Yeah!" shouted Christine, who had been carried away with the thought of being included. "But, wait, why do you want to go out! Don't you like it here!"

There was then five groans.

"It's great! Everyone watches it every night and there are T-shirts and people are having to sell their houses so that they can vote-"

"It's that big, is it?" asked Ridcully. "Hmm. I hope we don't have a repeat of the whole Moving Pictures escapade."

"That was different," said Angua. "We're not Things."

"It would seem, to the viewing public and Dibbler, that in fact we are," said Vetinari.

They all thought about this. All, that is, apart from Christine, who simply pretended.

"I'm more worried about the sheer amount of them watching," said Vimes. "The whole city? Really?"

"Oh yeah... anyone who's anyone!"

"Everyone has to be someone," said Carrot.

"Anyway, the thing that we all want to know is..." said Ridcully, who was the only one who wanted to know, "...Who's going out this week?"

Christine placed a finger against her mouth. "I really don't know! It could be anyone, but mostly it's between two people!"

There was a pause.

"...And they are...?" said Vetinari eventually.

"Oh, sorry! They're Carrot and Angua."

Another pause. The two cast glances at each other.

"Carrot or Angua?" said Vimes, a shade paler than he had been before.

"Yeah. Some people are getting quite bored of them."

Angua scowled. Being called evil wasn't too bad. Being called a bitch wasn't too hurtful, either. Hell, she could even handle being called _cute. _But boring? There was something about the word that really... really stung...

"And also, everyone wants to know what Carrot's big secret is!"

**DAY 36- 9.15AM: OS STUDIOS**

"Ahah!"

"Um… Ahah what?" said Finbar; a young man who had been hired specifically by Dibbler to sit at a desk reading a newspaper all day. He was sure why but he wasn't complaining.

"She's perfect! She's just doing exactly as I hoped she would have! I knew she was going to blurt out about Carrot's little antics."

"Oh… good."

Dibbler turned, his face full of rage. "No! You're meant to sigh and say something sarcastic!"

"Okay. okay!" yelled Finbar, retreating behind the large headlines.

"I'll bet you didn't read the briefing at all, didn't you!"

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, no I have! I mean-"

"Oh, just get out," yelled Dibbler. Finbar hurriedly obliged; he'd heard rumors of what the boss did when he lost his rag, most of them oddly including chopsticks.

Dibbler sighed. It just wasn't the same anymore.

Well, if you wanted something doing _properly…_

"Hm. And I suppose you think that all of their mistrust and hatred being put upon him is a _good _thing, do you?"

Maybe he'd been spending too much time inside this office, but if he had he wasn't prepared to admit it.

"Anyway, we needed an extra person for the next task. We need pairs."

"Why didn't you just get rid of one?"

"Because the show lasts longer this way, idiot."

"…Wait. Pairs? This wouldn't have anything to do with that task they used in 'Big Brother', would it?"

"Um… perhaps…"

"Oh, unc-"

"Look, they steal my idea, I steal their task. When you look at it that way they should still _owe me, _in fact."

"…Sure, unc."

It seemed that that was the closest he was going to get. Maybe he _shouldn't _have been so hard on Sol… After all, an evil villain is only as good as the sidekick who moans about him.

**DAY 36- 1.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"This is Older Sibling."

"Squee!" exclaimed Christine, promptly running around in circles like a hamster missing its wheel. Angua watched in disgust. From previous experience ( you got a lot of this if you hanged around Carrot a lot) she had gathered that 'squee' was a sound, but Christine actually pronounced it.

"Please would housemates assemble in the living room."

"Another task?" said Carrot, with a hint of weariness setting into his voice. "I thought we'd already had one for this week."

"Two, in fact, if you count 'Don't kill the girl'," added Vimes.

"I don't see what all your problems are with her," said Ridcully, to whom one young girl was identical to the next.

The living room was ominously innocent. There was no decoration, no apparatus, and no weapons. There were simply three cardboard boxes- Ridcully fancied he saw one rattle.

"Housemates," boomed the voice. "In order to bring happiness back into the house, Older Sibling is pleased to announce that the rest of the week is Fun Week."

"Fun for whom?" asked Vimes.

"Fun week aims to cause a greater bondage to be created between housemates, and because of this each of you will have a partner with whom you must work with for the rest of the week."

Vimes' brow knitted. Partner. _Again. _No doubt they'd be pairing him off with Angua due to their present tiff, or if that didn't please them they'd probably result to good ol' faithful Ridcully.

"The first pair shall be… Angua and Ridcully."

Angua, who was in one of her more bitter moods at the moment, turned to the wizard and bared her teeth at him. Ridcully wasn't sure why but found the experience disconcerting nonetheless.

Vimes was mildly surprised. Maybe someone up there liked him… or out there, at any rate. The two merged. Maybe he'd be paired off with Carrot and have a chance of surviving the week.

"The next pair shall be… Carrot and Christine."

"Yay!" she exclaimed, leaping onto Carrot once again like a very unusual ermine scarf. Even a non-werewolf would be able to smell Angua's fury at that moment, and Vimes' too, for that matter.

"And the third pair shall be… Vimes and Vetinari."

Vimes shook his head. "Real clever, Dibbler. Real clever, you filthy little-"

"Is there a problem, Commander?" asked Vetinari as he appeared by his side, in a way that innocently may sound like a question but already knew there was only one option of an answer to be given.

It took a lot of effort, but a "…No, sir," was eventually issued as was required.

"I am pleased to hear it. We wouldn't want anyone to be displeased during 'Fun Week', would we."

"Yes sir."

"Was that a 'yes sir I agree', or a 'yes sir we do', might I ask?"

"Yes sir."

Vetinari gave a small sigh. "It's so hard to have a workforce that is efficient enough to know when and when not to be efficient."

"No sir."

It would be a little tiring, but following this pattern he _may just _stand a chance.

"Housemates may have noticed that there are three cardboard boxes. There is one box for each pair, and the item inside must be used constantly by the pairs. Failure to continue use of the item results in failure of the task."

"…Item," said Angua.

"Couldn't have been any more thorough, hmm?" said Ridcully.

"Well, whatever it is, I don't reckon it's going to be that extra cigar a day I requested," Vimes muttered. He desperately wanted to take a step away from His Lordship, but couldn't help but think it might look a little unnatural if he did so. Still, there were much more unnatural things that he was worrying about at the minute.

"Ooh! Can I choose ours first!" Without waiting for a reply from anyone Christine scurried over to the smallest of the three boxes and picked it up. "I want this one!"

"Why that?" asked Carrot, taking it from her hands and giving it a small rattle.

"Because it's small and cute!"

There was a suspicious snorting sound from Angua.

"Well, we'll take this one," said Vimes, determinedly taking the largest. "Because it's _big _and cute."

"Way to go to share the love around, eh Vimes?" said Ridcully, a smile still clear through his monster of facial hair. "Well, I suppose that leaves us with this one."

Paying glances at each other, the three pairs slowly opened their boxes with all the cautiousness of one who might be expecting a bomb inside. Upon the contents being revealed, the three watchmen all wore similar expressions. They would have been identical had it not been for the slight tinge of horror that Vimes' possessed.

"Handcuffs?" said Carrot, holding them up.

"Ours are handcuffs," said Angua. "Yours look slightly different. Anklecuffs, I'd guess, if I know Dibbler." A look of distaste crossed her face. "…What on earth does he expect us to do with _these…"_

"Well, I'd have thought he'd want us to be tied to each other, Angua," said Carrot, a little puzzled at her question.

She opened her mouth, but then reversed back and decided to follow a different track. "_Yes, _Carrot. That must be it. Yes." After all, it was probably easier that way. And in all truth she didn't really want to go giving him any ideas while he was paired up with _her._

"I'll suppose this is an unusual sensation for you, isn't it," said Ridcully, as he clipped the handcuff around her wrist.

"Yes…" Angua replied through clenched teeth, watching as Christine gave Carrot yet another pointless hug. "Yes it is."

"Well, at least it could be worse. We could have what the Commander's got. I'll imagine Vetinari won't be complaining too much though, hmm?"

Angua shook her head. "Don't."

Vimes looked down at his predicament.His demise was in the form of a waist chain. He gave a testing tug- approximately four inches distance was the most he had been given. He doubted that anyone had ever been so close to the patrician before, and if they had it had probably only been before he whipped out his knives and ended the experience.

He couldn't really think of anyway that it could be worse.

"I suppose we should at least be thankful that it is not a neckbrace, your grace."

Vimes was promptly thankful that it was not a neckbrace.

He gave Vetinari a sideways glance, but his expression was impossible to read. Was he happy about this? Was he pleased? Was he bent at all? Was he, Vimes, just being paranoid?

And was he going to stop thinking like Christine talked?

He just prayed that the 'bondage' Older Sibling had said would take place during Fun Week hadn't been a literal meaning.

**DAY 36- 5.25PM: OS STUDIOS**

"Hey, come look at this…"

All the behind-the-scenes workers were from Ankh-Morpork, and so they were experienced in the field of crowd gathering. And as Dibbler often said, it was only their nosiness he was paying them for.

This was why the tiny opening in the doorway to Dibbler's office had become quite a popular attraction to them.

"Unc, I don't know how you can do this!"

"Well that's why you're supposed to be watching and learning."

"They won't stand for this, you know. They're gonna rebel."

"Good! We'll film it!"

It certainly was an odd scene. It was similar to a one man play- apart from he wasn't repeatedly switching hats.

And the workers watched.

"When was the last time he was outside?"

"Dunno, a few weeks ago, weren't it? When he was asking that wizard for them sound catchers?"

"God, that was ages ago…"

"I think he must have cracked."

"That's fine. If he's whacked out maybe he'll screw up with the amount of money he pays us."

"Dibbler's _never_ whacked out when it comes to money."

**DAY 36- 6.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"You know, I can just _feel _the Fun seeping into me."

There hadn't been any tasks assigned to that day; a small virtue while they were left to become accustomed to the lack of privacy. After all, trying to go to the toilet was a task in itself.

And it was a lot harder to bitch this way.

"Oh look, it's raining again!"

"Christine, I don't think it's healthy for you to always-" But he was dragged out once again by a strength it seemed was fuelled with sugar.

"This is only my opinion, but I have a good feeling that _someone _is going to die during this task," said Vimes. A euphoric scream emanated from the garden. "And I have a good idea who it might be."

"Do you have a problem with young Christine, Vimes?" asked Ridcully.

"A slight one, yes. The fact that she is the mental equivalent of a sponge on a rollerskate doesn't help."

"You know, I wouldn't have thought that you were a sexist."

There was a slight silence, before the clanking as Vimes attempted to lean forward over the table in a more aggressive pose without dragging the Patrician down with him. As Vetinari wasn't about to give way in the slightest he gave up, flopping back. "What was that?" he said eventually, the effect having been lost slightly.

"Well, you look down on both the women in this house. Upon her arrival you have automatically begun to look down on Christine, and you haven't said a word to the sergeant for a day now and have constantly been giving her filthy looks."

Vimes scowled. If this wasn't an attempt to get a rise out of him, he didn't know what was. It was such a _stupid _argument, too. Unfortunately so stupid that it wasn't easy to think of a comeback to. And Carrot wasn't here to quell it.

It was hard to argue with a person like Ridcully. He was the kind of person that Vimes put in the gang with Rust. The kind of person who thought that the truth could be forged if you were confident enough about it, and wouldn't know sensibility if it hit them on the nose with a small wooden mallet.

"Of course I don't think that Christine's belo-" he paused. That was a very heavy sentence for anyone to say without a snigger. "Look, I'm not about to decide who's more important than who. That's for people who pronounce 'well' with an added 'h'. And what's going on with me and Angua is nothing to do with you."

"I think it is now, what with me being sat in the middle of it all. If looks were weapons I would have been killed in the crossfire by now."

"Look, Ridcully, I know you're trying to help," said Angua, agitatedly.

_My arse, _thought Vimes.

"But you're really failing miserably. Just leave it."

And with that she left the room, inadvertently taking Ridcully with her. His choice didn't really seem to play a big part in the matter.

There was silence as Vimes and Vetinari were left alone.

"You and the Archancellor provide useful entertainment in this house," said Vetinari from out of the blue.

_Oh good. I would have hated to think that my constant quarreling and enragement was going to waste. _"Yes sir."

"I would be interested to know why it is that you and the sergeant are not speaking to each other."

_Yeah, I'm sure you would be, if you didn't already know, that is. What you would be _really _interested to know is what _I'm _going to say about it. _"Yes sir."

At these words Vetinari closed his eyes and leant back in his seat, his hands clasped. "Vimes. You have known me for a very long time, as I have you. You have shared a cell with me, you have arrested me, you have received every promotion existing under the sun. It even spans back to the time in which I once saved a revolutionary Watchman's life." At these words Vimes turned and stared at him, wondering if he meant what he was meaning.

Vetinari paused, as if relishing the Watchman's thoughts.

"My point, however, is that over this vast stretch of time I have come to the conclusion that you must know how to say a response longer than two syllables, despite the amount you attempt to make me believe otherwise."

"Yes sir."

Vetinari sighed. "People can be so difficult… I shall be blunt. If you find speech to be such in unimportant thing I shall have your tongue cut out and given to an Igor, who may find someone who would put it to better use."

Hmm. When it was put that way…

"…Me and Angua have fallen out because of the Talonvine's task."

Vetinari didn't smile smugly about his achievement in dragging a coherent sentence from Vimes, as anyone else might. He simply continued with his face blank, his eyes closed. "And why is that? She gave you a pineapple, I believe."

"That's the problem. First of all she's upsetting Carrot by doing that, and secondly it puts me in a situation that I told her to avoid at all costs. I _know_ what Dibbler'll be promoting out there; anything that might be a danger to my marriage-" He stopped himself, realizing that he was going too far. As better it felt to get the Angua situation out into the open, he reminded himself that it would not be wise to be building any bridges between him and the Patrician at the moment.

"Yes," said Vetinari, looking as though he was closing the conversation. "I suppose the effects that this house might have on your relationship with Sybil should be kept on mind."

Yes, sure, but… what did that _mean?_

**DAY 36- 6.40PM: OS STUDIOS**

Dibbler's head lifted from his arms, flopped out over his desk.

He had to find Sol.

When he'd fired him he'd never really expecting that he wouldn't come back. It had been one of those empty sentences that within the next second you wouldn't mean and everyone should have known this, such as 'don't ask me about it', or 'No, I don't want anything for my birthday, thanks'. But people have a terrible habit of doing what you say and not what you mean.

"What are you people doing here?" he shouted at the many men who promptly began to be inconspicuously checking the time outside his office. "Get lost and get some work done! Go on! And has anyone here seen a young lad with a newspaper in the past twenty four hours?"

**DAY 36- 6.50PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Ridcully was having an education.

He was watching Angua cook.

It was an amazing sight to see, and he couldn't help but just stare in fascination.

It wasn't that she actually did anything _wrong. _That was the incredible thing. Everything seemed to be in order; floating the egg to make sure it was fine, putting the heat down so that the sauce could reduce, even the delicate pinches of salt seemed perfect and artful. Yet somehow, _despite this, _as soon as she put it onto the plate her salmon-cakes with raspberry sauce become something that would even send Foul Ol' Ron limping down to the other end of the street in a fit of 'Bugrit's.

"So what _is _the problem between you and Vimes at the minute?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from something that looked like the assembling of Frankenstein's monster on a dish.

"I don't have any reason to tell you," she said blandly, sipping a spoon.

"Yes, but surely you'd feel better."

"Don't worry about me."

"You're allowed to, you know. I wouldn't say anything."

"Look, Archancellor. There aren't many who are as accustomed to Bitching as I am, and so I don't need any help on the matter."

He shook his head. "Well, I admire your loyalty. You don't get many wizards like that."

She didn't reply.

"The University is quite like the Watch, in a sense," he continued. "But opposites. Like they're different sides."

There was no response.

"There's your lot, trying to keep people out of trouble, while we're trying to keep the trouble out of people. Oh, there's always the occasional Thing that's decided its going to rally together all its kind and storm through the gate of realities… Too much hassle, in my opinion. Just like your serial killers, I suppose-"

"What is it _you _don't like about Vimes?"

**DAY 36- 9.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

And now it was the time they had all been dreading.

Christine was no longer sat in her chair around the table like the rest of them, as was their usual tradition in the house at this time. Heck, at _any _time, as long as there wasn't any inconvenience presented to intervene. She was sat on Carrot's lap, her still sopping wet hair resting against Carrot's chest as her ribs went in and out at such a speed it looked as though they were vibrating. She even _snored _with exclamation marks.

Carrot dropped the bombshell. "Well, I think it's time me and Christine went to bed."

Angua spluttered in her coffee.

He picked her up lightly, but as he did so he needed to raise his foot slightly due to their being attached by the ankle. He gave a small nod to the others sat at the table, and proceeded to hop towards the bedroom.

Vimes watched Angua staring at him as he went. He didn't know what to do. He'd never been one to sympathize or to give comforting hugs, but there had always been… an _agreement _between him an Angua. A very simple, unspoken bond that he liked to think he had with all his sergeants(2). During awkward situations all they would have to do would be to turn and give each other a look that said 'Yes… I know what you mean'.

That small acknowledging nod had been taken away from the two of them, and it was harder to cope without than he had thought it would be.

"Maybe we should go to bed now too," said Ridcully to Angua. "After all, early to bed, early to rise."

"You were never to bothered about going to bed early before," she said, frowning, with the full knowledge that there was absolutely nothing to rise _for. _"And before you get any ideas, we're pushing two beds together. We'll just have to leave our arms out of the covers between the two."

"As you wish."

That left Vimes and Vetinari, once again.

…

…

"Tired, your Grace?"

"No!"

"That is fortunate," said the Patrician, who on all accounts should have been skipping around at a Christine level of hyperactivity due to his daily consumption of coffee.

----------------------------------

(2) Apart from with Detritus, that is. If any human started to give a troll odd looks or make small expressions such as raising their eyebrows or rolling their eyes, they would find themselves being picked up and shaken vigorously to see if they were broken.

**DAY 37- 2.00AM**

"Sol!"

There was a brief scream in the streets of Ankh-Morpork as one person was pounced upon by another. This did not cause a general stir or an attraction of attention from surrounding people, in the same way that someone waving to someone else does not.

"Get off me, get off me! Who are you!"

There was a slight awkwardness as the two untangled themselves from each other in the darkness.

"…Unc? What are you doing out here? You look terrible…"

"…I'm here because…" began Dibbler, but stopped. "I'm _here _because you haven't been at work! Who gave you permission to have a day off?"

"You fired me…"

"Why would I do that? Does that sound like the kind of thing I would do?"

"Look, unc…" Sol shook his head. "I don't want to come back."

"You don't? But… why? You're family, and that means you don't have a say in the matter!" He spotted from his expression that this might not be the best approach, despite its previous number of successes. "Alright then, I'll give you a raise. One dollar a day, and that's cutting my own throat."

"No, it's not about money."

"_What's _not about money?" asked Dibbler, who was genuinely interested to know.

"Well, you see, the thing is… it's about this girl…"

Hmph. One of those teenager things. "Well, there's no reason that you can't carry on with your job and see her."

"There's a problem, though. She doesn't like Older Sibling." _She doesn't really like _anything.

"Someone who doesn't like Older Sibling?" exclaimed Dibbler, as if Sol had been blaspheming enough with the 'not about money' comment, and was now on his way to thunderbolt villa. "She can't exist then. Either that or she's foreign. Who is she?"

"Susan Sto Helit.."

The name ticked over in his mind slowly. "…The announcer girl? You like _her? _But… But she works at OS Studios too!"

"That's why she doesn't like it, apparently."

"Look, Sol," said Dibbler, putting his hands on his nephews shoulders. "I need someone there to…" He wasn't actually sure what role it was the boy played, come to think of it, but the important thing was that he played it well. "…Please come back."

Sol looked down. True, there were probably _hundreds _of people in Ankh-Morpork who would _kill _to have his job (whatever it was), but…

"I… no. No, uncle. I've decided, and no amount of cutting your own throat will change it. I'm not coming back."

And with that he shoved his hands off and walked away.

**DAY 37- 2.10AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Are you sure you're not tired, your grace?"

"No!" squeaked Vimes, his body leaping up to attention as these words were said once again. "No, I'm absolutely fine, thank you very much! I am a Watchman, after all! The longest parts of my life have been spent at this time! This is my finest hour! Is there any more coffee?"

Vetinari regarded him. "I feel that it may be in your best interest that we go to bed now, Vimes."

"It's alright! I assure you, I'm fine! Are you finished with that coffee?"

"Vimes, is there something troubling you?"

"Not at all!"

"There is nothing on your mind at all?"

"Not at the moment, at any rate!"

This comment, at least, was true.

A few minutes passed.

"There is nothing at all that worries you about having to share a bed with me?"

"No sir!" Vimes squeaked.

"You feel no awkwardness at all about going to bed with another male?"

"No sir! Not at all!"

"You are an unusual man, Samuel Vimes."

Another few minutes passed, as Vimes thought about this, or attempted to.

Suddenly, as if there was a single joint in his waist, Vimes' upper half swung straight down and his forehead collided against the table with a thud. "Ow."

More minutes. Vetinari had not turned his head in the slightest since this event.

"I think that I might like to go to bed now, sir."

**DAY 37- 2.45AM**

There was another scream within Ankh-Morpork that night. Apart from this time, someone died.

"Well, thank the Gods that's over with," said a man, looking down at his former self. "You know, you'd think they'd get the impression that you want to end it all at the point where you start drooling."

**I WOULDN'T KNOW.**

"You get what I mean." The apparition sniffed. "I've spent twenty years with that affliction. _Twenty years. _It ain't been good, but through all the pain and lack of communication, you get to think a lot."

**HMM, **Said Death, idly fingering the top of his scythe in a preoccupied manner.

"The big questions. Stuff like that. Things like, 'why are we here?' 'Is there a reason we have to go through all this suffering?' Surely there's a _point _to it all."

**HMM… **

"Are you even listening? Look, I don't care if you get this every time, it's you job!"

**YES… I SUPPOSE I DO, DON'T I. DO YOU WATCH?**

The soul was taken aback slightly by this. "I beg your pardon?"

**IT'S THIS OLDER SIBLING THING. IT'S QUITE AMUSING. THERE'S ONLY A FEW WEEKS LEFT OF IT, AND TENSIONS ARE BUILDING IN THE HOUSE… I WAS JUST WONDERING IF YOU WATCH.**

"I've just died here! I'm not interested in a bloody game show! I was never into all that rubbish!

…**OH, **replied Death, a touch more coldly.

"So go on then, tell me! Is there an afterlife? Is there any meaning to it all? Is there an eternal paradise?"

Death leant forward as the shadow of a life began to fade, the blue lights in his eye sockets narrowing slightly.

**WELL, THERE MIGHT BE FOR _SOME _PEOPLE.**

**--------------------------------------- **


	17. Week 6 part3: The Angua tour of Anger

It's turned into a bloody soap, hasn't it. On one side we've got Sol, and then we've got Carrot's secret, Angua's feud, Vetinari's sexuality…

I wish it wouldn't end. I really enjoy writing this thing.

200 reviews! I think that's a Discworld record! Thanks so much, people!

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**DAY 37- 7.45AM: OS STUDIOS**

Susan stopped what she was doing (1) and gave a deep, heavy sigh. Dibbler's eager face approaching at high speed could do that to you. "Look, if it's about the dress, I didn't alter it that much. I just changed the situation so that there was a least something _to _alter-"

"No, that's not what I've come to speak to you about," he said, dismissively. This disappointed Susan somewhat, as she had been looking forward to a good argument to shatter the boredom. "Erm… are you seeing someone at the minute?"

"You've already tried that one."

"_No_, this isn't about me. It's about… a certain young man."

She sniffed. "No. I'm not seeing anyone. But there's someone who is determinedly seeing me. A young man, as you say."

"Quite small? Tends to carry a newspaper about his person?"

"You know him. What do you want?"

"Well, I was just kind of wondering, you know, if I…" Susan noticed, in her habit, that Dibbler was constantly jittering. Shrugging his shoulders, scratching the back of his head, all the signs of someone who refuses to accept that they are sleep depraved.

"Wondering what?"

"Just, well…" Yep, any moment now he would be at the propping-eyelids-up-with-matchsticks stage. "It'd mean a lot to me if you dumped him."

She raised a cynical eyebrow. "I'm not particularly experienced in these matters, but I thought you had to do something a little more gallant and commendable to win over my heart rather than just _asking."_

"It's not about me!" Dibbler yelled in her face, yet she did not flinch or unfold her arms.

She raised a hand and flicked a strand of saliva from her cheek. "No one does anything if its not about them. I'm sorry, Mr Dibbler, but he's not mine to dump."

He watched as she walked away. "But _he thinks _he is…" he muttered to himself.

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(1) Which admittedly was nothing much. There was nothing for her _to _do, being just the pretty face, and so she made it her business to constantly be busy.

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**DAY 37- 7.50AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes was awake.

But in the very rawest sense of the word. Sleep and awake is not like a light switch to be turned on or off, but more like maple syrup dripping into honey.

Everything was easier in this state. His mind at the minute, as powerful as a chewed marshmallow, was not even about to _attempt _to take hold of all his problems. Right now it was using all its running power on the fact that this was the first time he was sleeping in a proper bed for weeks, what with there finally being few enough housemates for the bedroom to be used fairly, and this pillow was damn comfortable…

Shifting himself slightly, he turned his head.

It was all he could do to stop himself yelling as mentioned events slammed into his mind like an iceberg protruding from the great sea of calm.

His first instinct was to run. Very fast, in the opposite direction. The beast didn't only offer it's opinions about ripping criminals into shreds; sometimes its greatest wish was to simply scurry away with its tail between its legs.

Fortunately he realized in time that this may not be the wisest of actions, as it was easy to presume that Vetinari would not appreciate being dragged around the house frantically by the waist in his PJs.

He had to calm himself, yet this was considerably hard.

…Iminthesamebedasthepatricianiminthesamebedasthepatrcianohgodsohgodsiminthesamebedasthepatricaniminthesamebedasthepatricianohgodsohgods…

Calm. Deep breaths.

Well, first thing was first… He didn't feel like he'd been raped.

That was a good start.

Gods what was he _thinking? _This was the Patrician. He didn't have emotion glands.

He wouldn't do anything like that.

Well, at least not to be viewed live.

Probably not.

Hm.

"Would you please stop thrashing, your grace? You're letting cold air in."

**DAY 36- 8.35AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Oh look! It's raining again!"

"Now Christine. You went and played out a lot in the rain yesterday, so don't you think that today… Oh, fine…"

Angua paused her sip of coffee as she watched Carrot being forced to take another trip to pneumonia paradise. What with its casual mugginess, rain was not a rare thing to Ankh-Morpork; it came in all shapes and varieties. "She's going to be the death of him," she muttered.

"I would have thought that you Watchmen were used to rain," said Ridcully conversationally.

"We are. Just not when we're only wearing pyjamas. Besides, the 'it's raining' episode isn't the only method of demise."

"I'm starting to get the impression you don't like Christine."

"I'm starting to get the impression I don't like _anyone."_

Their heads turned as they saw Vimes' walking along behind Vetinari whom, to his great fear, had a towel under his arm.

Ridcully looked thoughtful. "Do you think that the Patrician really _is… _you know…?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't really care. I find that it's easier not to wonder about anything Lord Vetinari does; it's only playing into his hands."

"I was thinking. Maybe he's just doing it to mess with our minds."

"Well, if he is, it's certainly doing the job with Commander Vimes." Her face settled into bitterness once again.

The Archancellor took another attempted. "Look, why don't you just have an argument? It'll make you feel better." At this point Angua jerked her wrist causing Ridcully's hand to sweep and knock his coffee all down his front. "Ow! There's no need for that! It was only a suggestion."

"Why are you so desperate for there to be an argument?" she asked hotly. "Everyday all you seem to do is stir."

"Well. I'm a wizard," he said, looking a little hurt at her accusation. "I live in the University. If there isn't an argument before dinner about how much honey is really needed to saturate porridge then there's something up with the world."

"Yes, well, it isn't like that in the _real _world."

"How do you know that yours is the real one?"

Outside, there was a series of dull thunks as the precipitation changed to post boxes, followed by an onslaught of alternating shrieks and groans.

**DAY 37- 8.55AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes, who was most definitely _not _watching Angua to see what she was doing or if she was looking at him or if the was pointing and laughing, just happened to see as she and Ridcully rose and walked out of the kitchen. "Uh… I'd like to go to the kitchen." It felt so odd to have to ask permission for such a thing.

Vetinari gave a very small sigh. "You're always moving, Vimes. One would wonder why you can never find it in yourself to remain still for some time."

"Fun is where you find it," muttered Vimes, dismally.

"Is it to check on your fridge again?" asked the Patrician as they entered.

"It's not my fridge. Yes I am."

"You checked it earlier this morning, I am certain."

"I did, didn't I."

"Vimes," said the Patrician, pausing in his step leaving Vimes just out of grasping distance of the handle. Not that he didn't try. "This house is having a drastic effect on your paranoia levels."

"I dearly hope so."

"You continue to think that Older Sibling is stealing food from us?"

He couldn't help but feel mildly insulted. After all, this was his _job, _solving mysteries and such… albeit if normally on a slightly larger scale. However, he did not word this. He figured that saying little and revealing nothing was the best tactic to prevent catastrophe with Vetinari. "I _know _that they're stealing from us. I can feel it!"

"I assure you that they are not."

"Around this time there's always something missing that was here in the morning. I checked before; I know that when I look now something won't be there."

"Are you so certain of that, your grace? And what goodness will looking serve?"

"Nobody believes me…" muttered Vimes, more to himself. "Let me look. I'll prove it to you."

Vetinari closed his eyes. "Will it make you feel better if you look?"

"Yes. Yes it will. I will feel much better. Now please let me look."

"As you wish."

Vetinari took two steps closer and stood, hands together as though praying. With the room given Vimes lowered himself onto his knees and not for the first time placed his head in the fridge.

There was a pause before he removed it and stared up at the Patrician. "How did you know."

"Pardon, your grace?"

"How the hell did you know that there would be nothing missing this time?" asked Vimes, feeling angry about something but he wasn't all too sure what.

Vetinari lowered his gaze and stared at the Watchman while not saying anything. Vimes only became angrier. "You know what's going on. You always do. It's a little hobby of yours. So if you know what's going on then why not just _tell me?"_

The Patrician stared a few seconds longer, as if the effect pleased him, and then said "I already have told you, Vimes."

"What?"

"I knew that there would be nothing missing because Older Sibling is not taking anything."

"You… _You…" _He scrunched up his eyes. What had happened to the 'reveal nothing?' policy so quickly? "…How do you know?"

"As you would say, Vimes: I can feel it."

Vimes attempted to turn away from the Patrician, yet a clanking sound revealed that the chain was not about to allow him to.

He was seriously beginning to hate the man.

**DAY 37- 5.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Had Dibbler not been frantically running around attempting to solve personal matters, he would have been extremely disappointed.

The day had passed reasonably quietly for the rest of the day, which was quite unusual. There had been no great heated arguments, and no smut. Both of these Dibbler had assured would take place hourly as soon as the housemates were shackled in pairs. The behind the scene workers said that he was losing his touch, amongst many other things.

But they were looking at it the wrong way. The longer a volcano lies silent, apparently at peace with the world and its inhabitants, the greater the blow when it decides that war is much more satisfying.

"There's… something unusual about this meal," said Vimes, having just swallowed a spoonful of something that looked like thick, ominously grey custurd from his bowl. "It's… good."

"And why should that make it unusual?" asked Angua, coldly.

Ridcully visible braced himself, along with others sat at the table. This was it; the argument was about to come. The volcano was creaking.

Vimes swallowed, decisively. "Because…"

"Because Ridcully helped," interrupted Carrot. "Cooperation always bears great fruit."

Vimes looked down at the bowl. "Ridcully helping was an improvement?" he said in disbelief. "I would have thought that… But he's a head wiz… When the hell did you get chance to learn to cook?"

"I didn't," said Ridcully, too disappointed about Carrot's interruption to retaliate himself. "Then again, I don't need to. I simply added the condiment that makes every meal a masterpiece. A work of art."

"Art, yeah…" muttered Vimes, holding a spoon up so that the reminiscent to cement mixture sludge plopped back down with slow deliberation. "Must be that weird modern type."

"I think the case would be, Vimes," said the Patrician, who Vimes had very reluctantly noticed had stopped referring to him by his title, "Is that it is simply an improvement. Standards have lowered so much that what would have previously been seen as an abomination to cookery now passes as a mere acceptable."

Angua glowered at these words. The truth was certainly coming out. But unfortunately, it was not the Patrician that she was currently holding a feud against… but that could be arranged.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Christine, dropping her spoon.

"Christine, what is it?" asked Carrot, immediately full of concern.

"_Christine, what is it?" _Angua mouth silently to herself, her face screwed up.

"It's… It's the… I don't know…!" Christine whined, not actually crying, as this would ruin her make-up completely, but her eyes glistening in a heart-wrenching way nonetheless. "Suddenly, my tongue just… ouch!"

"Please tell me it needs to be amputated," said Vimes, before a strange look passed his face.

"I think I know what you're talking about," said Carrot, a hand covering his mouth. "Burning… suddenly…"

Vimes huddled over, arms wrapped around himself. It was no joke… something was definitely up.

"…Older… Sibling?" he muttered.

"They wouldn't do that," said Carrot, worriedly. "They couldn't physically harm us…"

"They've done every other type…" Through the fog that was descending before his eyes, Vimes looked aside to the Patrician. Was he in this unusual pain too? It looked like he was shaking, but that could have been caused by his own eyes rolling.

"What did you put in this thing?" he demanded at Angua.

"Nothing out of the ordinary!" she exclaimed, also clutching her stomach as if with fear it might jump off and run away. "Only potatoes and flour and-"

"-My favourite ingredient," added Ridcully, casually.

Vimes' hands raised over his face. He knew what that meant, but he wouldn't risk saying it for fear that not only words would spill out. He risked another glance at the Patrician… there was definitely something wrong with him, as much as he attempted to look above the situation. There was a thin layer of sweat sliding over his face, gently steaming.

"…I think I speak for the rest of us when I say I would like to know what this particular ingredient is, Archancellor," said Carrot, haggardly.

Ridcully sat back comfortably, his hands clasped. "It's only wow-wow sauce."

Vimes dared to let one word slip. "Bastard…"

Nearby, Christine swung back gracefully and fell off her chair unconscious, bringing Carrot down with her causing the floor to shake. If he wasn't knocked out from the food the blow to his head as he landed certainly did the job.

"Archancellor Ridcully," said the Patrician, taking charge of the situation despite the sudden unusual cloud of steam hovering above him as he held in the effects. "It is not acceptable to be sabotaging the house's meal!"

"Sabotage? I did nothing of the sort. I eat it all the time."

"You… _you…" _growled Vimes, his face changing colour rapidly. "Ugh. I'm sorry about this, sir-"

He hastily rose to his feet and ran in the direction of the bathroom, the Patrician being inadvertently dragged away with him.

"Why did you do this?" Angua shouted at Ridcully as they were left alone, alarming him somewhat by her fury. "Are you trying to pin the blame on me or what… what?"

"Calm down, calm down," said Ridcully hastily, more for his own safety than hers. "Here, take this."

"What is it?" she asked, taking a small mug of something it seemed he had prepared beforehand.

"Horseradish sauce."

"What the hell would I want horseradish sauce for?"

"Just drink it. Trust me."

She looked down at the viscous liquid before her. There are very few worse experiences in life than having to drink a mugfull of horseradish sauce, but it just so happens to be that the effects of your first trip with wow-wow sauce is one of them. She quickly chugged it down, the thick sauce glopping down onto her tongue.

Slowly but noticeable, the fog rose. The background stopped merging. Kiwi fruits stopped dancing before her eyes.

She rose a hand to her sweat sodden face. "What… is this some kind of magic?"

He shook his head. "Close. Cooking. I learnt it once when I added wow-wow sauce to my beef dinner… completely knocked out the flavours of each other. Can't imagine for the life of me why."

She delicately wiped her lips with a napkin as if the past episode of sweating and retching had not taken place. "You're not making any friends from all this, you know."

"Neither are you, it would seem."

"Look, do you hate me?" she shouted, the napkin flopping into his face. "Are you trying to make things worse? Pinning your stupid pranks on me so that you can simply sit back and chuckle?"

"No," he said carefully. "I'm doing it because I want to help you."

She paused. She hadn't expected this. "…What do you mean?"

"What I mean is…" He leant closer. "Wasn't it good when Vimes was choked mid-sarcastic remark with the sensation of a bonfire in his stomach?"

"…No," she replied.

She managed to keep up that resolve for a whole five seconds.

"…Yes," she eventually conceded.

"And don't you feel better now that everyone has got their just desserts?"

"The main course was exciting enough, thanks, I think we can skip pudding," she muttered. "Yes, yes, I admit it, it felt good."

"Well then, that proves it! Blow your top at them and you'll feel much better in the end-"

"It's not going to happen!" she stressed. "Dear Lords, you think that giving me a condiment is enough to make me do what you want?"

"What is there to lose?"

"A lot of things," she said, sullenly, but noticeably leaving the retort at just that.

"Who knows? It might all blow over once you've managed to get things off your chest."

"Yes? Who knows? It could even turn out that it escalates into something bigger and I never speak to him again…" She shook her head. "Just as you said. Who knows."

"Well, I do, for a start. I've seen this kind of thing hundreds of times. Just trust me."

"It'll take a long time before I trust you, Archancellor."

"And I imagine that that will be because of Vimes' influence, won't it."

To this she didn't reply at all, and they both watched as Christine slyly opened one eye slightly to see if everyone was crowded around and worried about her. And if they weren't, why the hell not.

**DAY 37- 9.00PM**

Sol had never felt so great.

Sure, he'd met girls before. But they'd all been… bland. Oh, yes, they may have been pretty. He'd dated the odd pretty girl before, and although to a connoisseur it would have been noticed that many of these may have had far more beauty than Susan, there was just something special he found in her. Something so… alive(2)…

And she was so hard to get. But that didn't matter. Every hard achieved second in her company only became all the more cherished.

He'd dressed up for the occasion and was now combing his hair. He had to make sure he looked smart just in case he should happen to go anywhere posh- It was hard to forecast what would be suitable to wear when where you went all depended on where the person you were determinedly following should go.

He paused as there was a knock on the door.

Damn it. Slamming the comb aggravatedly down, he walked over. He had a very strong suspicion who it was going to be. He pulled the door open. "Look, unc, you really need to-"

"Rent."

He nearly bit off his tongue. Now he quite wished that the thing he had been dreading _had _been true, and the expression on the landlord's face didn't make it appear that pretending he was family would allow him to skimp on the cash.

"Uh… I… I'll have it, okay? I'm a bit low on funds at the minute so …Tomorrow…" Within his pocket, his hand scrunched up a receipt for a fifty dollar box of luxury chocolates.

The landlord sniffed, and gave him the stern look of one who has the authority to have you thrown out on your arse on the cold hard pavement in the cold hard rain within the next minute.

He turned and walked away, revealing a sad looking Dibbler who was stood behind.

"Ah, unc-"

"Sol, I need to talk to you," he blurted out.

"No, you don't! Just leave me alo-"

"You need money, right?" Dibbler took a step closer, his hands writhing together as if they had lives of their own. Sol felt inclined to take a slight step back. "I can help you. I can give you money. I can pay, Sol! I can help! Just come back to OS Studios!"

Lost for words, the harsh speech he had prepared torn from him at this look of desperation, Sol anxiously chewed a finger. "Unc, I think you need a break."

"I'm fine! There's nothing wrong with me! Why do people keep thinking that there's something wrong with me?"

"This… This Older Sibling… It's really changed you," continued Sol. "You're not the same. I think you need a vacation… Or at least a nap."

"I can't! Something might go wrong! The housemates, they need watching. Always watching. They need me!"

"…Then who's watching them now?"

Dibbler made a fantastic display of his sporadic deafness. "Come back Sol!"

"You need help. I wish I'd never brought you those omniscope shards back then… I should have known something like this would happen. Maybe you should take a visit to the University… Get a wizard to check out you haven't been possessed by some dungeon dimension monster that resides within Older Sibling."

He made to slam the door, but Dibbler's arm shot in the way. There was a crunching sound.

"It's all that girls fault isn't it!" he snarled through the crack. "All her fault!"

"Unc! You're hurting yourself!"

"All her fault! I'll fire her! She'll be gone! Forever!"

"I'm not opening the door! Move your arm before you really hurt yourself!"

"Forever! Forever! Then you'll come back! You'll come _crawling _back!"

"Unc, you're scaring me!"

He eventually managed to stuff Dibbler fingers back through, allowing the door to shut tightly. Sol couldn't say he wasn't relived, as he breathed out, sliding down with his back against the door. After staying there for five minutes he felt that Dibbler must have finally gone and it would be safe to get up again, now that the maniacal laughter had subsided.

Alright, so maybe the easiest thing to do would have been to comply, true, but it was more than that. For a long time he'd done as his uncle had told him, under the basis that he had not been big enough or crafty enough to do anything otherwise. But this was it. If he didn't put his foot down now it would remain half-heartedly suspended forever.

--------------------------------------------------------

(2)Which could easily be considered odd by anyone who knew her past and heritage. Love is an incredible thing, especially concerning the dire effects it can have on things like judgement.

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**DAY 38- 6.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"GOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGOODMORNING-"

"Ah…" said Angua, rubbing her eyes. "An old friend."

"What?" called Ridcully.

"I said, AN OLD FRIEND."

"WHAT?"

"WHAT?"

"GOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGOODMORNINGGOODMORNING…"

It eventually died down, but it took a further amount of time for the ringing to stop.

"…What was that…?" whined Christine, giving a wide theatrical stretch and yawn.

"That, I believe, was the 'good morning' alarm," Carrot informed her. "They used it on us once as punishment for failing a task. But… that doesn't explain why they should want to use it on us again."

"Maybe they want to take away our last and only escape from this prison," muttered Angua.

"This is Older Sibling. Would Housemates please assemble in the living room."

Vimes did not rise. He simply lay on his back, eyes wide and blood shot, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

"Vimes," said Vetinari at the side of him. "You have stayed awake all night?"

There was a very drawn out pause as the question seeped in. Eventually after being processed the response was: "Yes."

"And why would you want to do such a thing?"

Another wait. "…Because," was his simple answer. But within the confines of his own mind it was added '_Because that way I know EXACTLY what hasn't happened, to perhaps put my mind at ease'._

**DAY 38- 6.15AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"What time is it?"

"I don't know."

"I want to die."

"I know."

"I think the only reason they don't have stairs in this house is so we can't throw ourselves from them."

"I know."

"Maybe it's a surprise eviction and one of us gets to leave."

"I hope so."

"Housemates," the voice boomed, eardrums snapping under the pressure at this unusual time of day. "After being lenient up until this point, Older Sibling feels the need to be blunt. The house is a tip, and it's all your fault."

"Isn't that nice," said Angua.

"There's no need for them to be so harsh about it," said Carrot, sounding quite hurt.

"Upon entering the house, the house became your responsibility. Therefore, you have neglected your responsibilities by not keeping the house clean."

"Getting a little nasty, aren't they?" said Ridcully.

"I guess they must have used up all the entertainment being nice was going to give them," muttered Vimes, deciding to take his cigar for the day a little earlier than usual. "There's a whole field of opportunities left to be taken when they're being nasty. Openly nasty, at any rate," he added.

"Because of this, Older sibling has decided that the housemates will spend the day cleaning the house to the state it was in when they arrived."

"Hey, wait wait wait," shouted Vimes at the ceiling. "We've already had plenty enough tasks this week. And I don't think that a little spring cleaning is very fitting of 'fun week', is it?"

There were some barely audible whispered mutterings between the Older Sibling Voice and some helpers, before there was an eventual strangled- "Uh… there's meant to be great joy… uh, and satisfaction, uh… in a tidy house. In a job well done. Older Sibling sets the task on this basis. Yes. Just whistle while you work. Older Sibling wishes you all good luck."

The Voice died in a hurried retreat.

"Well, what should we do?" exclaimed Christine, beginning to jump up and down causing Carrot to stumble. "What would you normally do? Should we just do as they say and be happy about it, or do something exciting?"

"Like what?" said Ridcully, tiredly.

"Like, like, like… like rebelling!" She raised a triumphant first in the air. Not because it signalled rebelling, but because she'd actually been able to come up with the _idea _of rebelling. Ideas were a rare occurrence to be celebrated.

Angua shook her head. "I don't know about anyone else, but I'm not in the mood for rebelling right now. I just want to get this done so that I can go back to bed and only decrease the amount of time in which I have to stay in this place."

"You know, I would have thought it would be like them to leave us out a costume," said Carrot, but not in his normal upbeat voice. It seemed that the surprise awakening had taken it's toll even on him… Or at least the constant presence of Christine had. "They normally do that kind of thing. Like… leaving out a cleaning maid outfit for each of us."

"Don't give them any ideas! Don't give them any ideas!" Vimes yelled, immediately attaching his hand over Carrot's protesting mouth. He very slowly turned around to look at Vetinari, who seemed quite indifferent to the suggestion, he was relived to see.

"I wonder if I'm the only one who's getting tired of this…" Angua sighed as she left the room with Ridcully.

**DAY 38- 9.10AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I think we got the raw deal here."

Angua and Ridcully stared at the monster before them. The bathroom.

Everything had been organised, and each pair had been stationed to different sections of the house until dinner, when it would change. Vimes and Vetinari were doing the kitchen, Carrot and Christine were doing the garden, and Angua and Ridcully were on the bathrooms. They'd already done one, but were now regretting leaving the worst until last. For this was the one which had still not quite recovered from Nobby's 'making a river' escapade from what seemed like ages ago, and because no one had until now decided to attack the moss it had begun its own thriving civilisation. Also, this was the bathroom nearest the bedroom, meaning it was the one that was most commonly subjected to at the time when your average person's aim is not quite so good as it should be.

And, Ridcully noted to himself, it was the one rushed to the most after Angua's splendid meals.

"All we can do is get on with it," said Ridcully, being a seasoned leader, and therefore someone expected to encourage people to shovel the shit with smiles on their faces. "No one's enjoying their jobs, Angua,"

"You must be mistaking Christine's shrieks for sadness," muttered Angua, as a delighted trill rose again. She figured it must have started raining once more.

Ridcully placed a sponge against the floor, and watched the yellow foam he held shrivel up upon contact as if waving a white flag. "Don't you… Don't you think…" he said, teetering on the edge of a statement. "Don't you think that the kitchen was really the… easiest job, hmm? Selfish of Vimes to take-"

"You must have no respect for me at all to think that I'd rise to something like that," she replied, dismissively. Taking a different approach, she then kicked over the bucket that was holding the suds so they spilled completely over the floor. It was nearly possible to hear the shrieks as a hundred new races that had spawned were wiped out in this one fowl blow. "You'll have to try harder than that."

"I will persuade you, Angua," he said. "That I promise you."

"Hmm."

Vetinari stood on his knees, looking down as Vimes negotiated with the oven. "You're not getting to the back, Commander. You really need to reach in, much further."

With that Vimes dropped his sponge, huddling his arms around his knees. "Please, Gods…" he whispered to himself., not concerned whether the Patrician pondered on his unusual behaviour. "Please just let me die…"

**DAY 38- 11.30AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I just thought. Hasn't Vimes got a stupid haircut."

"I'm not listening!"

The two of them sighed, irritably.

"You must really have something against him," said Angua, eventually.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. You could be persuading me to have a go at anyone in this house, but above all, you choose Vimes. Why's that?"

"I…" He sniffed. "I don't know. He's just disagreeable, that's all. Would you prefer that I try and persuade you to hate all the other housemates instead?"

"I never thought that you were such a fair man, Ridcully," she replied dryly.

The door suddenly swung open, causing Angua who had been knelt before it to be thrown forwards plummeting her head into the refilled suds bucket. "Hello, everyone! How are you doing?"

"Dear lords…" came a bubbly sound.

"Hello, Christine, how are you?" said Ridcully, kindly in the fashion that an adult may address a toddler.

"Well, we finished all our work tidying up the garden, so we thought we'd come and see how you guys are doing!"

"Cold…" chattered Carrot, his arms wrapped around his body as he shivered. "So much rain… so very cold…"

"Are you alright, Captain Carrot?"

"I'm not sure what's wrong with him!" exclaimed Christine, smiling madly regardless of her partners misfortune. "He's been like that for the past hour! I don't see what the problem is, a little rain never hurt anyone!"

"Actually, my great uncle Algy died from pneumonia whilst out hunting," said Ridcully, conversationally. He passed a towel up to Carrot. ":Let's see if that makes the poor chap any better."

The Watchman silently stared at the offered towel for a few seconds, as if it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. He gratefully took it and threw it over his sopping wet hair.

"Well, since we're finished, we might as well help you out!" exclaimed Christine, cheerfully. She lightly skipped over Angua's motionless body and picked up a sponge. Carrot was tugged behind her.

"We've already done most of it," said Ridcully, running his fingers through his beard in an attempt to remove the moisture from it.

"Oh, don't be silly! There's still plenty that we can do! I must say, Ridcully, but you may have been a teensy-weensy bit hurried while you were cleaning in here! There are plenty of places that you've missed!" She smiled brightly. "I guess that only a woman such as myself would be able to spot such things! For example, it doesn't look like you've even _touched _the back of the toilet!"

"No, wait Christine-"

But his warning was futile. As her finger reached towards the back of the toilet, the sponge did nothing to help in defence as when they came back into view they were covered in a strange quivering green/brown substance. "Eek!"

Ridcully shook his head. "We left that part for a reason."

"It's… It's moving! It's crawling up my arm!"

Ridcully was about to shake his head again, when, to his great surprise, he found that she appeared to be right. "What…"

"Help me!"

"Christine!" shouted Carrot, shivering forgotten as he flung the towel aside and rushed to help her.

Ridcully could only sit watching, dumbfounded as Carrot appeared to be wrestling with an odd creature that seemed to be trying to work its way around Christine's throat. "Someone has to be kidding…" he muttered to himself. "This is the kind of thing that only happens in horror books…"

"Aack! Please help me!"

At this call he too rushed forwards, having to leave one hand behind as it was attached to Angua's still motionless body. "Are you sure your flailing isn't just making it move like that?"

"I don't know! Just get it of me!"

"It's spreading!" cried Carrot.

"No it _isn't."_

"Aaaagh, ack, ack-"

"I can't get it off!" Carrot shouted. "I'm sorry Christine, I can't get it off! I'm so sorry…"

"Pull yourself together, man!"

"You're a wizard, why don't you try and burn it off?"

"Well, I would, but…"

"Please, Archancellor," said Carrot. "I don't want her to get hurt."

"Well, that's the problem. My right hand is tied up, and my aim isn't as good with the left-"

"You have to try! We believe in you!"

Ridcully stared at Carrot's desperate face for a few seconds, and wondered to himself whether he was always like this. He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and put it down to sleep deprivation and too much rain. "Alright then. Hold her still."

Within the next few seconds, the green mould was flung to the side from a small blast of red light. Any wonders over whether it was alive or not were suddenly quelled as it shrivelled up, turning charcoal grey.

Ridcully sat staring at it, still in disbelief. "I guess we'll never know."

"Christine?" said Carrot, crouching over her. Ridcully turned to see her led, sprawled out on the floor, her head tilted slightly to the side, one arm curling around to brush her cheek, long blonde hair strewn about beautifully in all directions. If she'd practiced the pose she couldn't have had it pulled off any more efficiently. "Christine! Wake up!" He looked up at Ridcully. "She's not breathing…"

"Oh no," muttered Ridcully, perhaps not with as much concern as he should have done. Poor simple Carrot… he couldn't understand what some people would pretend to go through just to achieve the benefits of it. "Well, I'll go and call Older Sibling, shall I? I'm sure that you'll find she'll be back on her feet soon enough if I do…"

"There's not enough time, it might be too late…"

With the speed of someone who puts duty first and saves hesitation for later, Carrot lowered his head and connected his lips to hers.

He breathed.

"…Captain," said Ridcully, flatly. He could not help but pity the poor lad. "I think I ought to tell you. I don't think she's really-"

Slowly, still whilst Carrot was performing CPR, Christine's eyelids gently fluttered open. In the manner of a veteran of these matters she closed them once more and flung her arms around Carrot's neck. "Oh, Carrot…"

Hurriedly untangling himself from her with great speed, Carrot sat back up again. "Um… I think you misunderstood me, Christine…" he said, his ears turning a violent pink. "But it's a good job that you're alright…"

"Yes. Isn't that nice."

The three heads turned to the sound of the voice.

Another monster appeared before them. Finally lifting a head full of soapy bubbles, Angua glared with a look that was very close to killing.

"Um, Angua," said Carrot, tentatively, "Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine. Fine and dandy, thank you for asking. Glad to find that you're actually paying me some concern now that Christine is out of harms way, thank the lords!"

"You're not yourself, Angua, calm down-"

"I've already tried calm, Carrot!" she shouted. "For the past few days I've done calm. I've tried to be understanding. I realized that it must be difficult what with being forced to be with her. But now I see that you didn't find it to be much of a problem at all!"

Ridcully looked at Carrot, then at Angua, then at Carrot again. Poor lad, he thought once again. He's in a really difficult position. But personally, at the moment, if Ridcully had to choose between the delicate angel and the swamp monster from hell, he wouldn't find it too stressing.

"I…" said Carrot, quite lost for words. "I'm sorry, Angua. I didn't realize that you felt this way…"

"And you know why that is, don't you. It's because you didn't _ask."_

She paid a look of disgust at Christine, who was still led out on the floor.

"Come on, you," she said, giving a great tug of her arm at Ridcully. "I've got a Watch Commander to speak to."

As Ridcully was lead out behind the marching creature of the Armageddon, he could not help but smile. _It's finally happening! It's finally happening!_

**DAY 38- 12.15AM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I think that we may at last be finished."

"I'm just glad we got it done before Dibbler managed to get those maid outfits ordered," said Vimes, mopping his brow.

A furious presence appeared behind them.

"Vimes," said Vetinari, without turning around. "There may be someone to see you."

Very slowly, and very carefully, Vimes put down the cup he was drying, and turned around, inadvertently turning the Patrician around with him. "…Hello Angua," he said stiffly.

There were a few moments silence as the scene was taken in by everyone on it. Vimes stood emotionlessly, chained by the waist to Vetinari. On the other side was Ridcully who looked quite excited about something, at the same time as fearful about the fact he was directly connected to Angua, who still looked monstrous with her hair and face covered in foam and bubbles. She was snarling.

"Is there something you want to say?" Vimes asked, politely.

"Yes."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes there is something I want to say! And I've been wanting to say it for a very long time!"

**DAY 38- 12. 20AM: OS STUDIOS**

"Look," a behind the scenes worker said soothingly to Dibbler, knowing that no one could accuse him of not working while he was doing this. "Look, see, Angua's going to start a big fight with Vimes. Just like you wanted."

"Mrmf."

"Surely that should make you happy?"

Dibbler took this into due consideration, and then eventually gave it his verdict of "Mrmf."

The worker floundered. Not that he really cared, but it seemed that there must be something _seriously _wrong with Dibbler. "Well, um, oh, I wonder why she's acting so strange all of a sudden?" There. Pondering and talking about the house always cheered him up. "What do you think?"

"Mrmf."

"Perhaps she swallowed some of that liquid and the fumes have gotten to her, maybe?"

"…Mrmf."

"At any rate, it should be pretty exciting to see what happens, hmm?"

Dibbler didn't reply at all this time. He simply stared ahead of himself, sightless.

He eventually rose to his feet. "You know, I'm really not interested in this anymore."

The worker watched in shock as his boss left the room, that last sentence still reverberating within his skull. _Dibbler _finding _Older Sibling _to be _uninteresting?_… There was most definitely something wrong with the world.

Oh yes, there were rumours, naturally. However, he wasn't about to let himself believe that all this could be caused by some cheesy plotline such as _family._

**DAY 36- 12.45AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vetinari was finding himself becoming rather bored.

He had to admit that it had been rather interesting at first, for, as Vimes had said the other day, fun was where you found it. And you had to search pretty hard in this house.

But now it was getting old. The two oppositions' tactics were slipping. They had never been that good in the first place, in all honesty. At first it had been the whole 'oh yeah' yeah' and 'why' 'I'll tell you why' situation which he personally found very tedious, and then had come the next step in which the volume is turned up a few decibels. Witty retorts were no longer the game- It was just how loud you could shout them. At least there hadn't been any blows thrown. That would be just too crude.

Now he stood, quietly, waiting. Waiting for the promised part which he was so dearly looking forwards to- the heart wrenching emotional part, where everything goes quiet. There are more silences in the emotional part, far more teary eyes, and a considerable increase in actually listening to what the other person has said. However, they were persisting with the second phase, and his patience was running thin.

It would be very hard for someone unskilled in the matter to read Ridcully's expression. He simply stood, noiselessly, watching with a slightly glazed look that is normally reserved only for the eyes but in this case was covering his entire face. Fortunately, Vetinari was very skilled.

"I can't understand how it could come to this," said Vimes, bitterly. Vetinari raised his eyebrows slightly; this sounded promising. "In this house, throughout all we've been through, you were the one I trusted the most. And suddenly you turn against me like this."

"I could say the very same thing," said Angua.

"So then why?" said Vimes, raising his voice once again causing a small pang of disappointment for the Patrician. "Why has it? Why the sudden change?"

"Because…" This actually took some considerable thinking back to. "Because of the St. Talonvine's task."

"Because of a pineapple."

"No, because of _you _getting so worked up over a pineapple! That's what caused it all!"

"But for good reason," said Vimes. "You should have never given me that pineapple! I can't understand why you didn't just give it to Carrot!"

"I'm sure I already explained this to you, but in case you don't recall, _I did that for you."_

He gave a short bark of a laugh. "Oh yes. Because you felt _sorry _for me."

"Yes! That's exactly why! I'm glad to see that your stupidity does not go to that extent!"

"Do not insult me, sergeant," Vimes growled, menacingly. "You were the foolish one. I am a married man, and I'm pretty syre everyone knows that. I don't need a superfluous symbol of affection to make me feel happy, and you should have given yours to Carrot as the case could very well be different with him. If you didn't _mean _what that pineapple represented then you should have never given it to me at all!"

"You're saying that the giving of my pineapple should have been only what I truly felt?"

"Yes, sergeant! Thank you for repeating me!"

"So you're telling us that you fully meant what it symbolized when you gave your pineapple to Vetinari, I take it."

There was a pause. Ridcully's face fell blank.

"I… uh." Vimes looked to the side, scratching the back of his head. "I… I… uh. How do you… uh."

"It seems that all of Angua's many dwarves are surrounding your last and final troll, Vimes," said Vetinari.

"Oh, don't sound so bloody pleased about it," whispered Vimes, but for his own ears only.

"…You gave your pineapple to Vetinari?" said Ridcully, at last.

Vimes turned his head to the side again. And then out of the window. He then scratched his head again. He then looked at the floor. "…Yes. Yes I did."

Ridcully stared, too flabbergasted to even be amused. No doubt it would catch up with him later. "Well, Commander… I'd admitted that the Patrician may be a bit…. Um… But even _I _would have never gone as far as to think that _you… _um…"

Vimes looked back from the corner of his eye to see what Vetinari's reaction to this very blatant question of his sexual preference was. However, there was none whatsoever, or at least none that was visible.

After all, at the moment it was primarily everyone staring at _him _to see the reaction to the question of _his _sexual preference. He was the real mystery to them.

_This is stupid._

"This is stupid."

"Pardon?" said Angua.

"I said, this is stupid. I'm married. I have a son. And even if I _was… _Then that shouldn't matter to you. It shouldn't make a difference to anything."

With that final statement, he turned and walked away, Vetinari indisputably following behind him.

Angua watched as they exited.

"Well, I can't say it hasn't been interesting," said Ridcully. "I'm still shocked about Vimes, I must say… But don't you feel better now?"

Without replying to this question, she turned and ran into the bedroom, inadvertently taking him with her, tears streaming from her eyes.

**DAY 36- 1.15PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes sat on the floor of the corridor, arms folded. Thankfully, Vetinari had the curtsey to keep quiet and not question this behaviour, or mention the previous argument.

Every was wrong.

It was all so _stupid._

And apart from these points, all he could hear was the ringing voice of Christine in his head.

_It's mostly between two people… It's Carrot and Angua._

**DAY 36- 4.00PM: OS STUDIOS**

Susan slammed the door closed behind her, and raised her finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose.

He was really starting to get to her now. Admittedly, it was all very flattering, but… he was just so wearing. Trying to just happen to appear by her side, making very polite yet very dull comments about the weather and determinedly _not mentioning _the two forbidden O and S words…

If only he'd stand up and make himself truly counted. Deep down, no matter who they are, _every _girl has wanted to be swept off their feet at some point in their life.

She sighed. It was times like this she really wished she had a friend whom she could confide in.

Soon enough, when she managed to pull herself together out of this unusual state, she would notice the small note that had been left on her desk a little earlier that day.

It read:

_Please come to me office at 7.00PM. It concerns tonight's surprise eviction. Do not be late._

_CMOT. Dibbler_

_------------------------------------------------------------_

Phew.

Now THAT was a long one. 8000 words. These chapters are getting longer and longer…

Sorry, but the votes' closed on this one. You wouldn't want to spoil the plot at last minute, would you? But all the same, I would still very much like to hear your thoughts.


	18. Fifth Eviction: Like we did last summer

Complaints. Ah yes.

There have been a couple of complaints about Ridcully… Well, a considerable amount, to be honest, but lets swing the perspective round to the complaints about me and the way I portray him. To any Ridcully lovers out there… I'm not trying to make him look nasty. It's just the way he's coming across. The house makes people do strange things… But your comments have been noted.

Aha, and I could not be forgetting the Vimes/Vetinari issue. Ha. The extreme contrasts of response to it are pretty funny, actually… I don't think I've actually directly said "Vetinari is in love with Vimes". He could be, who knows? This is _the Patrician _we're talking about here. But, what I'm trying to say is… Take it the way you want it. Just… stick with it, okay? I myself am not a fan of slash… just of amusing situations. I'll try not to disappoint anyone, okay?

Any more comments, please leave them in the little box at the bottom of the page. The difference is that unlike the real BB I don't charge two quid for each one.

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**DAY 38- 6.30PM: IN THE HOUSE **

"Oh look, it's raining again!"

"Please…" sobbed Carrot, as he was dragged out into the garden once again by superhuman strength. "Please no, not again…"

Vimes sat watching this. It wasn't that he was interested anymore (the fourteenth time had been his personal finale of concern) but it was better to watch anything than to allow himself to collapse into the mental pool of despair.

…He'd really gotten himself into it this time.

For some reason, he felt worse than he had ever felt in his life. He knew that he had gone through much worse experiences; life threatening ones, for example, but… but…

It was this house.

The public had seen him, someone who was prepared to agree himself that he was not exactly the nicest of people to be found on the disk, shout the roof off against a cute little blonde, resulting in her rushing to the bedroom in tears. What a villain worthy act. And if it wasn't for the other side of things he could have been feeling really happy about this right now.

…Angua had been in _tears._

He could not recall seeing her cry on many occasions. The greatest one that leapt to mind had been in Uberwald, and that had been because a crazed family member was going to kill her boyfriend and anyone else who happened to be near enough. And now on the ledger with that was him arguing with her. It didn't make sense in his mind.

…Why?

"If you feel bad about it, Vimes, you should go and talk to her."

"I don't feel bad about anything," he automatically replied, but it could be seen that his heart wasn't in it anymore. "…It's just a little… awkward," he admitted.

Vetinari gave a small smile. "You are an amusing person, Vimes. You will blatantly do something which you know will hurt yourself and others simply out of pure pride and stupidity… Maybe that is why they think I like you."

Vimes carefully glanced at him. "They think. You mean, you _don't-"_

"This is Older Sibling. Please would housemates assemble in the living room."

"I'm afraid we will have to continue this conversation at another time," said Vetinari, who was still smiling. "Older Sibling calls."

Vimes rose with him, not caring to put his chair back under the table as he was constantly scolded for forgetting.

He hated it so much when they were all called together into the living room; even more so over the past few days. He had almost been telling the truth when he said that the problem between him and Angua was a little awkwardness. Yes, it was the problem, but the description of it being 'little' was way at the wrong end of the scale. It was something else. It was awkwardness on a new level. Just being in the same room made him-

…Wait. Hidden in what Vetinari had last said, had he just called him _stupid?_

**DAY 38- 6.35PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Clank.

Angua rubbed her wrist. She was free. The ordeal was over.

Well, _one_ of the ordeals.

"I can't say I'm sad to see it over," said Ridcully, speaking for everyone on this point. "But I must say it has been… an experience."

"Yes, an experience," said Angua monotonously, still rubbing her wrist.

"Do you think they'll let us keep these?" Vimes idly mused, holding up the waist-chain.

"What would you want to keep it for, Vimes?" asked the Patrician.

"To burn it."

Vetinari sighed. "I don't think one can get into much trouble for trying to set fire to metal…"

"No, they're probably in trouble already," said Ridcully, tapping the side of his head with a smile. Vimes scowled in return.

Angua shook her head. "Well, if that's all they wanted us for, I think I'm going back to bed-"

"You can't!" exclaimed Christine leaping before her. She appeared to be making use of her liberation by bouncing around twice as much as usual. "Older Sibling probably won't have let us out of the cuffs for nothing!"

Angua gave an expression that suggested she wasn't about to receive insight from someone whom's body consisted of 80 percent hair and 20 percent space for rent. She continued on her way to the door and did not let the gazes that followed impede her.

"Oh… I wonder what's wrong with her?" said Christine, in what would have been a monologue if its volume had not shook the walls. "If you ask me, I don't thing she's a very happy person, and people who aren't happy are normally not very nice!"

"Well I guess that's all of us condemned," said Vimes. Upon being released he had decided to sit himself down in the farthest corner of the room; just because he could.

"Oh Carrot!" said Christine, rushing over to his side. "Are you alright? There there, there's no need to be upset, I know we had fun, but even though we're not tied together we can _still_ have fun, right? I'll miss being chained to you too, but if we're strong we can get through it! There's no need to cry!"

She firmly grasped one of his hands. "Be strong. Just be strong, okay? That's it, you're smiling! Good job!"

"Iagree with Christine," said Vetinari, who himself seemed to be slightly bemused to find that he was saying this.

"What, about being strong?" said Ridcully. "I'm sure you and Vimes will manage to be strong about your separation."

"Ahum, no. That was not what I was referring to," said the Patrician with a testy edge to his voice. "I agree with the fact that Older Sibling will not have released us for no reason. It was originally said that fun week was going to last for, correct me if I am wrong, a week."

"I'm not complaining, personally," said Vimes from a distance.

"Which makes a change…" muttered Ridcully.

"Maybe Dibbler just decided that he wanted to be nice to us?" suggested Christine.

She beamed as they all started to laugh, although it did not cross her mind to wonder what she had said that was so full of wit.

**DAY 38- 6.40PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Angua fell onto her bed.

This was where she intended to spend the rest of her time in the house.

It was unbearable.

He thought she didn't care, that was it. But unfortunately, the problem routed down to the fact that she did care. So very much… If she didn't then she wouldn't be feeling like this.

She wanted to be free. But when freedom came, what would she do? She didn't feel as though she'd be able to show her face in Ankh-Morpork again; its citizens had probably seen enough of it already. In the Watch? It would never be the same again. With Carrot, with Vimes, with herself. Everything had changed, and she couldn't bear it.

And it was all so _stupid._

She lay on her bed, still fully clothed and staring at the ceiling, and tried to compose herself. She closed her eyes, and attempted to empty her mind.

And while she did so, she freed her nose.

Over the past few days he nasal radar had been as unbearable as everything else. As giving oneself a thorough washing to be viewed by millions was out of the question, everyone had gained a personal aroma that even the bleakest of noses would be able to detect, and so Angua's finely tuned one had simply shut down under the strain. But before things has become far too much to handle she could have easily written out someone's diary from reading the patterns of scent they left about the house; Go to toilet at eleven, eat dinner at twelve, go back to toilet at five past twelve… Each person had their personalities spelt out with their perspiration.

Carrot was distinctively worried about something, it showed through his pores. His odour was a floating pink cloud of concern. The Patrician left a bland grey cloud behind him wherever he went; even his smell was blandly secretive. Christine left white and yellow puffy wisps behind her; probably the sugar diffusing into the air from her sweat. Ridcully emitted a red aura around him suggesting savoured pride and mild annoyance, whilst Vimes just left the brown smear of the thoroughly unclean.

But as she was now alone on this rare occasion, she could return back to her favourite of all senses. The other housemates' mere residue from being in the bedroom that morning should not be too much to handle.

She deeply inhaled…

And nearly died.

**DAY 38– 6.45PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Carrot's head lifted as a sound commenced. It was a sound that over the past few days he had learnt to notice, and dread. You could practically see his ears prick. "It's raining, Christine."

She didn't seem to hear him.

He leant closer slightly. "I said it's raining, Christine."

"Oh, I know," she said, absently.

He cocked his head. "Then… shouldn't you be… outside and running about in it?"

She gave a small tinkly laugh, and patted him on the shoulder. "Oh Carrot, you sillybilly, why would I want to do that? I know that you like to run about in the rain, and so for the past few days I naturally complied, but surely you don't expect me to continue to join with your antics even when we're not tied together anymore!"

His face fell. His eyes became devoid of intelligent life. His mouth opened slightly. "But… you… but… you…"

Ridcully patted him on his other shoulder with sincere sympathy. "There there, son. Let it all out."

"But… you…"

"It is in times like this that I can only observe with wonder at the intricacies of the human mind," said Vetinari.

"Yeah," muttered Vimes, his chin resting in his hand thoughtfully. "Me too."

He suddenly shuddered and tensed up. Something was causing his awkwardness sensor to react. Apparently it was noticeable. "Is something the matter?" asked Vetinari.

At this moment, right on cue, Angua walked back into the room.

"Ah, Angua," said Ridcully, beaming. "So nice of you to join us once again after your apparent retirement."

She ignored his presence completely and walked straight over to Carrot, who was still quite flabbergasted at Christine's inconsistency. "Carrot, I need to speak to you."

When there was no response she shook him, quite forcefully. "Carrot, this is urgent, I really do need to speak to you. I… I know what you've been doing."

This statement caught everyone's attention. Subtle stares gently landed on the two of them in the middle of the room, as Carrot slowly lifted his head to look up at her. "…You do…?"

"Yes, Carrot. I know."

Without any further explanation he rose to his feet and they both walked out and closed the living room door behind them, leaving its inhabitants quite uninformed.

"Well. I wonder what all that was about," said Ridcully.

Vimes thought for a moment, and then turned and looked at Vetinari. "…What was it?"

There was no response to this apart from the folding of his arms.

**DAY 38- 6.50PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"I was going to tell you," muttered Carrot. "I didn't think that it would go on for this long, to be honest, but as it did it just became more and more difficult to say…"

_He's not used to being dishonest, _Angua thought to herself. _He doesn't know how to react…_

"I'm sorry, Angua."

"I don't know what to say," she murmured quietly. "It's not just me. It's everyone else in there. And I don't know what they're going to say, either. Carrot, why did you do this? Why did you put yourself in this situation? Surely Older Sibling would have noticed what you were doing; why didn't they stop you?"

At this, Carrot shook his head.

She sighed, and walked with him to the bottom of the bedroom, where each housemate's wardrobe stood. Ensuring her hand was firmly clasped over her nose she opened the door to reveal-

"Ah! Food!"

The contemplative air was broken at this shriek. Angua and Carrot turned. "Christine-"

"Carrot, you've got lots of food!" she exclaimed, quite pointlessly. "Why? I have to go tell the others-!"

"No," said Carrot, but she had already ran out.

Angua watched the door that Christine had left from swing shut. Instinct said to chase after her, but she didn't feel it would look very good if she should leap onto the girl and tear away at the back of her neck in front of the public. "…I think this is going to be very difficult."

"Yes…" sighed Carrot. "Most situations fuelled by Christine are."

**DAY 38- 6.55PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes stared, dumbfounded.

Butter, jam, sausages, bacon, bread… All had been meticulously mentally noted down within his mind as they had disappeared. And after all this time, he was really regretting being right.

"…Why, Carrot?" he found himself saying.

There was no reply.

"Come on, Captain, why've you been hording food for all this time?" said Ridcully, bustling in on the scene. "I know that you're a growing lad, but some of this is rancid! You must have taken it weeks ago-"

"Four weeks ago…" Vimes idly muttered, still staring. "And two days…"

"I'm very disappointed in you, Carrot!" exclaimed Christine, wagging her finger at him so that he got the idea just how disappointed she was. "You're normally a very nice person, but nice people don't keep food all to themselves!"

"What does it matter to you? You only eat celery and dust," said Angua.

"But I'm thinking about everyone else, Angua! I'm not just thinking about myself!"

"That's why nothing was taken the other day…" Vimes was still saying to himself, oblivious to Christine's constant clucking at Carrot(1). "He was attached to her, so he couldn't… Vetinari was right." But then he realised that this was as superfluous a statement as 'Fish tend to swim'.

"Well, I hope you have an explanation for this," said Ridcully. "Truly uncomendable behaviour; I thought you were of better things."

"Oh, leave him alone," said Angua, irritably. Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that Carrot was six foot.

"My dear sergeant, not meaning to sound abrasive, but if it was someone _else _who had committed this act, such as myself or Christine, you would be singing a slightly different tune." He sniffed. "I guess what I heard about Watchmen is true."

"Ooh, what's that?" asked Christine, curiously.

"'When a Watchman comes to your house to ask about a robber, you'll find more has been plundered by the time they've left than when the thief did'."

"That's not true," said Vimes, snapping back into the present world. Retorting to insults took priority above all. "It may have used to be that way, but I do things differently. No one steals in my Watch."

"Well, you can say what you wish, Commander, but the proof is in the pudding," said Ridcully. He covered his nose. "And it's going mouldy."

Vimes chewed his tongue. As much as he hated to admit it, Ridcully was right.

At this point Angua looked at him and their eyes connected for a second. _Awkwardawkwardawkward- _He broke the connection by turning back to Carrot. "I must admit, I am surprised at you, Carrot."

"Let's hang him up outside by his ankles as punishment!" screamed Christine.

"As much as enthusiasm is valued in the young these days," said Ridcully a little uneasily, "I don't think we need to take it that far."

"What do you have to say for yourself, Captain?"

It was the Patrician. He was stood at the back, out of notice from everyone else, yet his voice had easily been heard above the squabbling despite being little more than a mutter.

Carrot looked down. "…I'm sorry."

"This is Older Sibling. Would housemates please re-enter the living room."

"Today is just becoming more interesting and interesting," said Vetinari as he glided out of the room.

----------------------------------------------

(1)Excellent alliteration is unintentional.

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**DAY 38- 7.00PM: IN THE HOUSE**

If anyone had expected such an event to make the Watch stand together again against those who doubted and wished to condemn, they would have been wrong. Carrot sat alone in the corner of the room, silently. Angua and Vimes sat at opposite sides, determinedly not being the one to make the first move. Awkwardness did not allow.

Vetinari was sat nearby Vimes. At the moment Vimes was not particularly concerned about the man's sexuality; not that it wasn't still a worry, no, that it always would be- The case was simply that there were other things pressing on his mind at the minute, and he could go back to worrying frantically about that whenever things settled down again.

And, as odd as it felt to even think this, he had to admit that the chain that had attached the two of them had made him used to having him as a companion.

"So you did know, then."

"I believe you know me well enough know to answer that question for yourself, Vimes."

"Then… why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it would have upset the balance, and after you have ruled Ankh-Morpork for as long as I have, Commander, you come to learn that balance is a thing to be valued."

"But… uh, surely," said Vimes, wondering if it was very wise to give an opposing opinion to someone like the Patrician. "Surely it would have been better to get things out into the open?"

"Like now?" asked Vetinari, gesturing to the virtually silent and lifeless room they were sat in. "Or perhaps like the issue you had with Angua earlier today? As much as men as yourself like to think, sometimes being honest and getting things 'out into the open', as you say, is not the wisest course of action to take. Sometimes it's better to let things sort themselves out, as they very often do."

Vimes fell silent to this. If anyone asked him he would say that he disagreed, yet at the moment he did not think he could make up an opposing argument strong enough to bother with.

"As I assured you, though. I said it was not _Older Sibling _who was stealing the food."

Ah.

Sometimes he really hated him.

"This is Older Sibling. Please would Christine enter the diary room."

"Oooh, they asked for me!" said Christine, dancing from foot to foot.

"We heard," said Angua.

"Wow wow wow! I wonder what it is they want me for! Maybe they want to give me a secret mission or something like that!"

"Yes, I'm sure they would, if they have any public announcements they're in the need of giving," said Vimes.

"Whee! I'd better go and see what they want with me! See you guys in a bit!"

And so she ran out of the room with both arms stretched out widely.

"…Is it just me, or has the room become a lot more quiet?" inquired Ridcully.

"Even when she'd not speaking she's loud," said Vimes. "You can practically hear her heart beating like a constant tapping sound."

"For someone who's on a constant diet, she certainly manages to eat a lot of sugar," said Ridcully. "I wonder what they want her for."

Vimes turned to Vetinari once again. "Well?"

"I am not an oracle, Vimes."

"Maybe she's been evicted," said Angua.

Ridcully shook his head. "There's no point in wishful thinking. She distinctly said that the vote was between two people; you and Carrot."

Vimes could not help but wonder whether this wishful thinking that Ridcully was referring to was that he thought Angua wanted to stay in the house, or the hope that they all might be free of Christine at last.

But then the entirety of the sentence struck him as he was reminded once again.

Either way you looked at it, soon the house would be one Watch member less.

Carrot or Angua…

"This is Older Sibling. The votes have been counted, and the next housemate to be leaving the Older Sibling house will be…"

Vimes didn't know what to think. There was no point in hoping for himself to be leaving soon; he had learnt this ever since the unfortunate discovery that he was popular. But of the two… Carrot, who it had just been discovered had been the one stealing the food, making him look like a fool when no one had believed him about the fridge mystery… Or Angua, who… who…

"Carrot. You have been evicted. Please leave the Big Brother house immediately."

The voice shut off.

"Ah well," said Ridcully after a few moments silence. "At least we may be able to have a full decent breakfast now."

Unexpectedly, Angua did not snarl a retort. She just sat silently.

"Well," said Carrot, rather emotionlessly. "I'll go then, shall I."

"Carrot," said Angua, getting to her feet, but he had already left the room. She slowly sat herself back down again.

"There there, now," said Ridcully, giving her a few hearty thumps against the back to which she did not respond. "You'll get over it with time. I know how you feel. Why, I had to see the Bursar and Librarian leave the house ages ago."

"I am not certain that you and the faculty have quite the same relationship as Carrot and Angua, Archchancellor," said Vetinari.

"Although sometimes I wonder," Vimes added for himself.

He was about to give Angua a small look of reassurance and sympathy- before his memory got the better of him. Awkwardness prevailed.

**DAY 38- 7.15PM**

Blinding lights shone and flashed from all directions. Sounds cascaded over him. Yet throughout it all, going above everything else, was:

"**WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"**

It shook the walls. Everything seemed to go silent, but in fact it was just everyone's ear drums snapping. Surely, Carrot thought, he would have heard this shriek from inside the house?

Yet it sounded oddly familiar…

He immediately realised where he was recognising it from when a small ball of concentrated energy firmly attached itself to his legs.

"Christine?"

"Oh Carrot, it's you! I never thought that it would be you going! It doesn't matter! I know you took the food away! But that's alright! Because I forgive you! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Not that he was an expert in such matters, but he thought that the woman on the stage was supposed to help stop people from grabbing him, rather than being the one to do the grabbing themself. But the surrounding fan girls it seemed were prepared to put up a fight over him.

Eventually they managed to reach the stage. Carrot sunk himself into one of the two chairs, unfortunately not having caught on to the euphoria that was surrounding him.

"Now, Carrot!" exclaimed Christine, seemingly unsure as to whether she felt like sitting down or not as her bottom kept bouncing up and down off the seat. "I know I should be asking you about your experience in the Older Sibling house… But I don't think we really need to, do we!

"I mean, everyone out here has been watching it, so they already know, and I've been in the house already, so I already know, and I'm pretty sure that you already know, because it's you isn't it!

"Instead I think it would probably be a good idea to talk about myself! Yes, I can see it in your eyes, I bet you're dieing to know what I'm doing here instead of being in the house, aren't you!

"Well, as you mention it, it's quite simple really! I was called into the Diary room, and Dibbler said that he had a job that he thought would be perfect for me! Because I've got such a nice personality and everything! And he was right! It's just right!

"And that was Carrot! Wasn't he great everyone! WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"W-wait, wait please," said Carrot, as he was beckoned/buffeted/dragged off stage by a few OS workers and a couple dozen fans who were only to happy for him to comply.

"**WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"**

And so on and so forth.

**DAY 38- 7.20PM: OS STUDIOS**

"Where is she?"

A smile was pulled up on Dibbler's face at this sentence, before his turned to face Sol who had stormed into his office. "Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about!" yelled Sol, stomping his way towards Dibbler only to have two bodyguards stand before him with a type of solidity normally only found in walls.

"No, it's alright, I want to speak to him," said Dibbler, pushing the two away. "I'm sorry, Sol, but you're really going to have to explain yourself more clearly."

Sol paused, attempting to suck his anger back in and come down to a more manageable level. "…Susan…" he finally managed to say.

"Her?" said Dibbler, with mock-surprise. "Oh yes, the late-announcer girl."

"You killed her?" shouted Sol, causing the bodyguards to take a cautious step closer, but Dibbler was waving his hands dismissively.

"No, no, of course I didn't kill her. I'm not barbaric!" He laughed, causing Sol's teeth to grit. He had never before felt so passionate about anything in his life; Susan's well-being _and_ garrotting his uncle. "No. I simply got rid of her."

"…Got rid of her?"

"Yes. Work not up to scratch, not in the least. So I decided that dear Christine would work much better as a replacement… You see, she has the perfect type of mentality for showbiz. The type that doesn't ask to be paid."

"But, then, where is she now?"

"Oh, I think she's still on the stage 'whooing' with the crowd-"

"No, not _her, _I mean Susan. What have you done with _Susan?"_

Dibbler did not reply immediately. He simply allowed his smile to grow wider, causing Sol's despair to deepen. "I've sent her away. I've sent her away to somewhere where you'll never be able to reach her."

**DAY 38- 7.40PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"Well," said Ridcully. "Who would have ever thought it would turn out this way…"

"Indeed," replied Vetinari.

Ridcully sat silently for a few seconds as if waiting for Vetinari to add onto this remark. When it became apparent that he wasn't about to anytime soon, he pushed onwards. "So. Who do you think will win?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh, come now," said Ridcully, becoming slightly annoyed at this lack of conversation yet laughing to mask it. Vimes seemed to manage to receive a fountain of wisdom from the Patrician by merely asking… Surely he too could tap into it. "You must have _some _clue."

"None whatsoever. It is purely up to the public."

Ridcully stared at Vetinari. The Patrician hadn't even looked at him, but was simply sat gazing at the wall ahead of him as if it held much more interesting viewing than the Archchancellor's face. "…Were you surprised that Carrot went?" he asked, edging around a little.

"I can't say."

"One would have thought that the boy would be popular, really, wouldn't you think?"

"It is difficult to judge."

"Or maybe the public could see what he was doing, and didn't like him for it?" he continued to try, coming closer and closer into Vetinari's view line.

"I would not know. I am not them."

"How do you reckon Angua will cope without him?"

"I do not."

"Oh…" he finished, quite despondent. "Rather interesting opinions."

Ridcully was now stood directly in front of the Patrician. After a few seconds Vetinari blinked, as if only having just taken in his presence. "Do you mind, Archchancellor? You have interrupted my thought."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sorry."

He walked away, leaving the Patrician sat alone. "I guess it's true. He really _does _only have eyes for Vimes… And a mouth, for that matter."

He paused, as if expecting a chilling promise of death to meet him upon these words. He appeared to be both relieved and annoyed at the same time when none came.

"Christine!" he shouted, thumping against the Diary room door. "Christine, are you done in there yet? I need to speak to Older Sibling!"

Once again there was no reply.

"Why does everyone feel the need to ignore me today?" he muttered under his beard, before slamming his fist into the door once again. "Christine!"

Eventually the door opened, and Ridcully stood back to allow a woman to slip out.

"Good evening Archchancellor. Don't let me stop you with what you were doing," she said as she walked past into the living room.

"Oh, good evening, Susan."

He then continued to hammer. "Chriiiiiiistiiiiiiiine… Wait-"

A double-take to delight any patron of the comedic arts commenced.

**DAY 38- 7.45PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes froze.

He had walked into the bedroom, prepared to have an early night, when he found Angua in there. He felt the awkwardness factor raise up a step as she turned around and looked at him.

"Oh. I… I'll just go out then, shall I-"

"No, don't bother," she said, blankly, and continued with what she was doing.

Hesitantly, he closed the door behind him. He led down on his bed. He then turned over. He then sat up and swung his legs over the side. He then rose to his feet and walked and leant against a wall. He then walked over next to where Angua stood. "What are you doing?" he asked. The awkwardness relaxed slightly.

"I'm cleaning out this wardrobe. I won't be able to sleep knowing that it's there, getting worse."

"Oh, right," he replied, dumbly. He didn't know what else to say. Awkwardness increased to a dangerous level. A few seconds passed.

"…Do you know why he hid it all?"

"No," she replied, as coolly as ever. "But there must be a reason. I don't think he would do something like this for no purpose."

"You're right. He's not like that." Awkwardness lowering.

"I don't care what the others say. He shouldn't have had to go."

"I don't think he should have gone either. But if he hadn't you would have gone." Awkwardness rising…

"I know. But that would most definitely not have been a bad thing."

"Yes." Awkwardness steady.

More time flitted away. He shifted his stance slightly, and put his hands in his pockets. He had to be careful with his next move. He had to say something nice. Something pleasant and casual. Something to settle the awkwardness factor once and for all.

"How long have you been cleaning?"

"About half an hour."

"You're not doing a very good job-"

At first he thought that she was about to strangle him and stiffened duly, but then realized that she was not. It was her arms that were around him, and in a completely different manner to that which he had expected..

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, almost inaudibly. "I'm so sorry."

The awkwardness factor flew of the scale and started making a haywire high-pitched noise, beeping erratically occasionally.

He stood, lost. This was unchartered territory. One of his sergeants was embracing him, had her head resting against his chest, was gently weeping. He had no idea what one was meant to do under such circumstances; there didn't seem to be anything he _could _do. He was completely inexperienced in this field.

Not her too… Surely she didn't…? She couldn't… It would be wrong…

No, he then realized. It wasn't like that. It wasn't like that at all. He could feel it.

The awkwardness softly began to wane.

Very gently, he put his arms around her shoulders also.

"I'm sorry too."


	19. Week 7 Part 1: Born Free

Imagine weird talk over guy voice.

_"Older Sibling Is Back"._

He says it in a way in which ever word starts with a capital letter...

**----------------------------------------------**

**DAY 39- 10.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes slowly lifted his head from his pillow, and looked around himself to _just make sure _that there was no one in his bed this morning who shouldn't be.

Upon receiving good news, his head flopped back again, his head falling so deep into the pillow that it almost closed up over the top of his face.

"_Born free..._

_...'Till somebody caught me..."_

Despite his constant and unending gloom concerning his imprisonment in the Older Sibling house, Vimes felt better. Better than he had done the previous day, at any rate. Making things up with Angua was the cause of this, and a good early night's sleep hadn't done any harm either. Vetinari was notorious for staying up late, and was only too happy to share his insomnia with anyone who should happen to be shackled to him. If not his coffee.

He wasn't tied to anyone anymore... the Vetinari issue seemed to be lying low... Angua wasn't ignoring him... There were only four of them left, he would be out soon...

Vimes was just beginning to relax when all of a sudden two hands seized the pillow out from under his head, causing his skull to slam back against the iron bedstead behind it.

"I'm fluffing these pillows whether you're finished with them or not," said a voice through the ringing in his ears.

Dizzily, he's eyes slowly worked up. He couldn't see clearly (either that or the room had started dancing of its own accord) but he could make out a black and white entity before him. "...Are you the maid?" he said, thickly.

"Hah." It wasn't a very nice laugh. He wasn't sure if he liked that laugh. It was the type of laugh that he would give. "You must be the funny one. ...No, I'm not the maid, I'm just someone who can't stand living in conditions a pig would turn down. It's hard to believe that you people had a tidying task not so long ago."

He sat up, taking her appearance in properly. Pale skin, black clothes, black and white hair tied forcefully back into a bun... It didn't match anything in his archives. "...Not meaning to be rude, but... Who the bloody hell are you?"

She straightened up, and gave the pillow she was holding one last puff. "I don't know. I didn't come in the house with you, so I can't be a housemate. There's no way for people to get in, so I can't be a crazed fan. ...Perhaps I'm just a figment of your imagination."

She then exited, leaving Vimes still sat in his bed in his pyjamas and his confusion.

**DAY 39- 10.10AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Angua opened up a jar, and then as if all hell had be waiting for her on the inside she immediately closed it again.

Perhaps if she pretended she hadn't seen it then it wouldn't be true.

"What's taking your time?" called Ridcully from the table, unnoticing of the fact that Angua had frozen. "I like three sugars, if you've forgotten."

"I can't make you any coffee."

"Why not? Has the milk turned? If it has just keep scooping through- there should be white in there somewhere."

She turned around, very slowly, her face as if she had seen a ghost. "..."

"What is it, woman? Spit it out!"

"...We're out of coffee."

Vetinari paused mid-drink. He looked down at the cup that was still pressed against his lips. He carefully and savouringly swallowed, and put the cup down before him, staring ahead blankly.

Ridcully's reaction was slightly more sonorous.

"We CAN'T be!"

Angua held the coffee pot upside down, allowing him to see as a few lonely grains fell out.

"Don't do that, don't do that!" he exclaimed, running over and snatching it out of her fingers. He looked at it as though it was a wounded friend.

"Morning. I take it I've missed breakfast?" asked Vimes hopefully as he walked into the kitchen area, but he immediately noticed the three of them. Angua stood incredibly motionlessly, Ridcully crouched over attempting to pick up the remaining grains that had fallen onto the floor, Vetinari sat at the table hugging a cup for some obscure reason.

Even for the Older Sibling house this was not what could be described as normal behaviour. "What's Dibbler done this time?"

"It's not Dibbler," said Angua. "We're out of coffee."

Vimes' expressions did shift drastically for one second, but he managed to suppress it. "Um. Aherm, er... Um. ...All of it?"

"No, we're acting like this because we've got three kegs in reserve," said Ridcully. "Don't be a fool, Vimes! Of course we've lost all of it!"

Vimes looked as though he was swallowing something that was too large for his gullet. "...What about what Carrot took? Surely there was some coffee amongst all that."

"There wasn't," said Angua. "I've already been through it all. Besides, stealing food in this house is unwise, but stealing coffee would be suicide."

Yes. From the look on Vetinari's face right now Vimes was prepared to believe that.

Susan walked in at that moment to find them all stood in silence. "I take it no one's been swimming for a while. You'd need a _pickaxe _to get through that algae in that p- What's going on?"

Upon receiving no reply she frowned. One would think that teachers get used to not having their questions answered, but they never do . It's some sort of grim hopefulness which is attached to each of their souls that causes them to bother asking in the first place. "Someone," she said, her hands threateningly making their place on her hips. "Will tell me what's going on right _now_."

Angua broke first, albeit reluctantly. "We've ran out of coffee."

They waited expectantly for a gasp. However, all they received was a sniff. "And?"

"What do you mean, 'and'?" exclaimed Ridcully, ludicrously. "We've ran out of coffee!"

"So I've heard. And the problem is?"

Vimes could not help stare at this woman stood before them, feet slightly astride, hands on hips, head held high. Despite the fact that it appeared everyone else could see her he was still prepared to believe the offered option that she was from his imagination. One thing was for certain; she couldn't be real.

Ridcully was struggling. "Well, the problem is... Well, coffee, you see... Coffee, well... Coffee..."

"If you don't have a real answer then you clearly don't have a real problem," stated Susan, as if that wrapped up the matter.

"You can't expect to understand if you haven't been in as long as we have," Angua tried to explain, clearly disapproving of this new dominance. "Coffee is just something we've... come to rely on."

Susan cast her eyes around for a moment, before they landed on Vetinari. "Him," she said with a pointed finger, causing his head to turn curiously to face her. "From what I've heard about the amount he drinks you could just twist him and coffee would seep out of his skin."

Vimes' jaw literally dropped. Now he _knew _that she wasn't real.

"Ultimately, there's nothing you can do about it, so there's no point moaning about it. You've all become addicted to coffee so quickly, you can become addicted to something else. How about cleaning, I suggest? That would save me from a job I would rather not be doing, and perhaps help prevent each and every one of us from catching malaria."

And on that bombshell she exited. Their heads all stared at the door she had left from, as if expecting her to throw a few more taboo statements back in her wake.

"...Is she for real?" asked Angua, eventually.

Vimes shook his head. "...No. No she isn't."

**DAY 39- 1.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

He didn't know how it had happened, but he couldn't deny it.

Ridcully was bored.

The house seemed... quiet, now. There were so few of them in. Only five, in fact. Although this did give certain benefits, such as there being less squabbling about beds, less discussions on how long it really should take to empty ones bowels whilst everyone else is waiting, and, most of all, less time until they were all allowed out of this hell hole.

But, also with there being less people, there was the certain drawback of there being less people.

Ridcully was bored and lonely.

Vimes had Angua. Their friendship appeared to be growing and flourishing after the stormy downpour from the past few days. This displeased Ridcully, for he felt that after she had spent so much time with him (being forced to via shackles had helped this cause) they had began to get on quite swimmingly. And even though she had a tongue of acid, her prettiness made her nice to be around.

He had been receiving the impression that they were very close to becoming friends. But now that they were free once again, she only had time for Vimes.

Vimes. Vimes Vimes _Vimes._

He didn't think it was fair. She worked beneath him, yet now they were acting like the best of friends. Surely that wasn't allowed, was it? And the Patrician, ultimately Vimes' boss, had... some attraction to him, whether it be literal infatuation or just plain like. How could this be?

Even when you took opinion out of the matter, the case rested that Vimes was not a very nice man. He was cynical, he smoked, he swore, he was once a drunk, he rarely smiled, and every other sentence that passed through his lips was sarcasm. So how could it be that people had a genuine pull towards him, even his subordinates?

Ridcully didn't go for that sort of thing. The wizards at the University looked up to him. He was a true leader, and sometimes a leader needed to execute a bellowed command rather than a tentative pat on the shoulder, in order to be effective. He didn't try to have a friendship with fellows such as the Bursar, or that Ponder Stibbons lad, they needed keeping in line, not all this unimportant...

And it was then that Ridcully finally worked out why he disliked Vimes.

**DAY 39- 1.45PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Susan didn't know how this show could be allowed. The people in here clearly had problems.

Her first impressions of Vimes had not been good. Basically, to sum it up would be -bleary eyed, dazed, tired, stupid, pyjamas. Not the best of resumes. That girl that followed him around, there was something strange about her. Maybe it was the way that she bared her teeth whenever she felt angry. Ridcully, the only person that she knew (to a relative extent) had just walked out past her into the garden, silently, with a strange look in his eyes. She had considered saying something to him, but then asked herself whether she _really _wanted to drag herself into the stupidity of this place. No, that was Dibbler's job.

And then there was Vetinari.

Perhaps it _had_ been a foolish thing to say to the ruler of Ankh-Morpork- the looks on the faces of everyone after she had said it suggested this -but she had been in a bad mood. Being shoved into your most despised environment could do that to you. But it shouldn't matter all too much, for despite him being the most powerful man in Ankh-Morpork, he was in a house. Save murdering her in the night with a butter knife she couldn't really see what he could do to her.

Still, they did say that he had been trained at the Assassins Guild... And Assassins were very resourceful. Who could forget the great assassination of Lord Mackerbee in the year of the blind rabbit, in which the only murder weapon found on the scene had been a small and harmless looking rubber duck?(1) In comparison, a butter knife would probably be seen as a massacre weapon.

There was no point in wondering about it to herself when a more practical approach could be taken. She walked into the kitchen and sat down opposite Vetinari at the table, in order to assess him.

He could not feign interest in his cup of coffee and ignore the determined expression that she was holding on him for too long. Eventually, he looked up as if he had just noticed her, gave a small and meaningless smile of notice, which she returned, and then, when she was not discouraged, steepled his fingers before his face and stared back at her.

Anyone watching (whom, naturally, there were thousands of ) might be fooled that they were witnessing a business meeting.

"You are wanting of something, Miss...?"

"Susan," she replied. "Susan Sto Helit."

His eyebrow raised slightly at this. "Sto Helit? Daughter of the Duke of Sto Helit?"

"You knew him?"

"Not as such. A friend of a friend, you might say."

At these words she could not help but stare at him even harder, yet his expression did not shift.

"You worked for Older Sibling, did you not? Why are you here?"

This took her off guard slightly. "How could you know that?"

He gave her a look as if it was obvious. "You hate Older Sibling passionately, I can see it in your eyes, and even more so you hate us. As I believe, everyone apart from those who are involved in the making of it love watching our 'antics'. Such emotions put you in the perfect category of a worker in OS studios. However..." He paused. "I have seen other workers regularly. They feel the same, yet -unlike you- in their case the emotions translate through their bodies as fear."

"Well, that may be because their hatred is not quite as developed as mine. I've been in it from the beginning and, I assure you, it has had time to mature.

I was the hire-a-chest-, sorry, presenter for the show. It was my job to stand around and scream."

"I am sure there are much more fitting jobs for a sensible young woman in Ankh-Morpork."

"You try find one. You'll see how hard it is."

"I'd rather not." He smiled again. Susan found herself blushing, but then realised that she was and so instantly switched it off.

"I don't suppose you could tell me how my city is faring, could you?"

"No, I can't," she answered quickly. Was that his game? Try to act all chummy so that he could get information out of her? She wasn't about to risk it. There was nothing worse in the world than having your strings pulled, and she happened to know that she was facing the greatest puppet master on the Disk.

"No, I didn't think you could," he sighed. "However, you cannot blame me for trying."

There was silence for a moment. Awkward silence, but both were too proud to admit this through their body language. Susan continued to stare, intently. Vetinari took a small sip from his cup.

"Well, Miss Susan, forgive me for this, but if you are finished I do have important matters to attend to."

Not needing a more blatant dismissal, Susan stood up and put her chair back under the table curtly.

She then paused and thought over what he had just said. "Important matters?"

"Yes indeed."

She didn't press into this further. She didn't need to.

"You will soon find, Miss Susan, that in this house, sitting alone with ones thoughts and retaining sanity is a very important matter indeed."

"I pray I won't have to. I intend to have left before that time comes."

"For your sake I hope so."

She was just about to exit the room, satisfied that she was at least not the top name on his List, but paused at the doorway, and turned.

"Is it... Is it so obvious that I absolutely hate the lot of you to the core of your very souls?"

He gave a small sigh. "Yes, Miss Susan. Perhaps due to statements like that. Yes it is."

---

(1) There used to be a typo on the word 'duck' in this sentence. Look at the 'u' on your keyboard, and then just alter your gaze oh so slightly to the right... Yes. Had I not spotted it at the last moment, that statement about the murder weapon may have turned out to be rather interesting indeed.

---

**DAY 39- 4.30PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes looked up, and held a hand out in front of him slightly. He scowled. "Bloody weather."

Angua sat watching him silently, her chin resting on the back of her hands, as he began cursing and muttering to himself as he tried to find something to put over his head. She then gave a small smile to herself. "Thank you."

He stopped, and looked at her quizzically. She promptly realised what she had just said and shook her head quickly. "Oh. Sorry."

He quickly dismissed it and went back to his clucking. Angua continued to smile, however.

No matter what happened, what he may do or what accusations were made against him, Vimes would always be Vimes. Bloody sodding Vimes, as real as bacon and a root to reality. It may be a horribly, earthy root, but it was still there.

"I've made up my mind," she said, sitting up.

"Hmm?"

"I've decided, sir, that I don't mind how you may feel. After all, such matters are your choice, and it was not right of me to think you had to fit in with the ordinary perception of what is correct."

"Oh," he said, looking quite dumbfounded. He seemed unsure whether he had just been insulted or complimented. "...Thank you, sergeant..."

He returned to cursing about how if he had been allowed to bring his watch uniform in with him, he would simply be able to put his helmet on and avoid this mess. Before his new life in the house he had thought that he was used to dreadful weather, but now he realised that you could easily withstand anything the elements may throw at you if you have a beaten lump of iron on your bonce between you and it.

And then it suddenly struck him what Angua had just said.

_She still thinks I'm in love with Vetinari._

**DAY 39- 4.45PM: IN THE HOUSE**

Susan had taken it upon herself to do the cooking.

She had never watched the show. Not once. However, what with Older Sibling being the biggest talking point in Ankh-Morpork (2), you could not help but pick up a few notes about the house. One of which concerned cooking. And how bad it was.

Although it was only more greatly degrading to be shoved into a house only to bring yourself to become a virtual slave, cleaning and cooking for the poor oafs, she didn't feel there was an option on whether she should make the meals or not. She could cook to a relative extent, and she wasn't particularly keen on dying at a ripe young age. The choice was made.

Vetinari was sat at the table, watching her in interest. Not in an obvious way, though... Just in a way to try and put her on her toes. It is unpleasant to feel as if you are being watched, but it is even more unpleasant to _know _that you are being watched(3).

However, she didn't feel as wary of his company as she might have done prior to their conversation. Now that she knew he wasn't about to try and garrote her with some specially fashioned tooth floss. Which is a nice thing to know.

_Taptaptaptaptap._

She turned around. The sound stopped.

Dismissing it, she returned to what she was doing.

_Taptaptaptaptap-_

She turned faster this time, yet once again the sound ceased as soon as she had done. Someone was messing with her. It hadn't taken long. She gave a steely accusing glance and Vetinari, who stared back up at her in an innocent manner. Maybe he was trying to play mind games with her? She had heard that's what he did. She wouldn't rise.

_Taptaptap..._

Very slowly, and quite seamlessly from what she had previously been doing, Susan began to lift up the saucepan she was holding without turning around. After tilting it slightly she could see Vetinari's reflection in it, and although the tapping was continuing, he did not seem to be the source of it. Getting slightly agitated, she continued to angle her make-shift mirror at various areas of the room.

And then she found it.

A huge mirror on the kitchen wall, which from having worked on the outside she knew to be two-way, was vibrating with the tapping. To test her theory, she turned once again. The tapping stopped. And so did the vibrations.

...Someone out there was trying to contact her... But seemed too shy to be going through with it...

Who would be wanting to speak to her?

Not Dibbler, surely. If he wanted to talk then he could just have the Older Sibling voice order her into the Diary Room. And she didn't think she knew any of the behind-the-scenes Eye workers...

Unless...

"Oh, _no..." _she groaned quietly, the saucepan making a dull thud as she hit it against her forehead.

"Is something the matter, Miss Susan?" asked Vetinari, only sounding mildly curious despite this odd behaviour.

"No... no... Not at all. Nothing's wrong."

She returned to her stirring and tried to cast the thought from her mind, but it was proving to be rather difficult.

That insistent little guy who had been following her around could now be in her company and watch her for as long as he pleased.

---

(2) The people who liked it talked about how great it was, and the people who hated it talked about how infantile it wants. All in all everyone was talking about it, which in the grand scheme of things is the important part. The so-called greatest television programs that we have today are the ones that seem to value the people who hate it more than the people who love it, which says a lot about the society we live in.

(3) Susan was new to the game. Although she knew about it, she hadn't yet learnt to be constantly aware that Older Sibling Is Always Watching. Particularly when you're in the shower.

---

**DAY 39- 5.00PM: OS STUDIOS**

"Well?"

Sol turned his head slightly from the glass he was leaning against, to see his uncle stood jubilously behind him. "Well what."

"What do you have to say?"

To suggest that he did not know, Sol said nothing.

"Isn't a thank you in order?"

Sol, once again, performed a bout of deafness and dumbness.

"I mean, now you get the opportunity to watch her _all the time, _which you can't deny you are doing."

"I don't care." Muttered Sol(4).

"After all, if it wasn't for me, you'd just be following her around like... like..." He summoned a worker to whisper into his ear during his moment of need. "...Like a potato tied by a piece of string to her waist." He frowned. "What? Was that the best you could come up with?"

No reply.

Dibbler clapped a hand on his nephew's shoulder, which tightened upon the contact. "Ah well. It doesn't matter to me _why _you feel the passion to just stare at them through the glass... just as long as you do it. I will manage to teach you to walk in my footsteps one day, my boy."

Yes. That was one thing that Sol had noticed about a Dibbler's footsteps, particularly in his uncle's case. Upon looking at the footsteps, and the path the made in the ground, although the quality of the shoes that had made the footsteps may be very high... They were always alone.

---

(4) Although normally it is grammatically wrong to use a full stop at the end of a sentence being followed with a 'he said', no comma would be able to do justice to the bluntness in Sol's voice.

---

**DAY 39- 5.10PM: IN THE HOUSE**

"...But then she said that she couldn't refund the shoes, which was outrageous, for I'd only bought them the other day, but she said that since they were in the spring selection they could only be swapped for other shoes in the spring selection-"

He couldn't take much more of this.

"...But I swear they hadn't been in the spring selection, they must have been in the winter selection, for it _had _been Hogswatchnight when I bought them, which only makes sense. After all, I didn't want any of the spring selection-"

He was going to explode. Whether it would be verbally or physically was yet to be seen.

"...Because shoes in the spring selection are all the same, and they're all pale blues and greens which are really _not _me. Not like the autumn selection, which are much more my colours, and I think it could be quite interesting this year because they've-"

"Angua," said Vimes at last, holding up a hand. She stopped. "I really hate to tell you this, but I think I ought to before we both get hurt. I am not gay. Therefore, I cannot be your gay friend whom you have gay discussions with."

She seemed slightly deflated. "They're only shoes, sir. They're not _that _gay."

"They're gay enough. Besides, are you actually interested _yourself _in all that 'spring selection', 'summer selection' nonsense?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"Right. Okay. I'm glad we've got that out of the way."

There was a silence, in which Vimes went back to sorting his thoughts into order, and Angua sat, seemingly caught up in something within herself.

"Are you _sure _you're not gay, sir?"

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, whichever means I'm not gay! Not that I mind at, all, no," he added rather quickly and tackilly, upon remembering that he was being watched live. Offending people didn't bother him whatsoever, but nowadays acting in a manner which was not 100 politically correct was a sure way of virtually having Time's reporters being fired at you from cannons. It was quite tiring in the sense that you weren't allowed to have a strong opinion about anything anymore, but from other people's point of view it was probably very suitable indeed, for a few of Vimes' more strong opinions shouldn't be allowed anyway for general public health and safety. "No. Being gay is a fine thing. For those it takes to, I mean. But to some people it just isn't suitable. We have to just look at ourselves and think, is being gay right for me... sort of... although not that I personally go for that sort of thing, of course not. Not that I'm condemning it, of course! But, when you think about it, it is a bit... weird, isn't it... Each to their own, mind, each to their own! Yes! Even if it is... unnatural... But in a perfectly acceptable way!"

"Okay, sir, I understand. You are perfectly open to different views."

"Yes. But not that open."

Another pause. Vimes tried to calm himself down. Ah well, even if what he had just said had been warrant enough to get him noticed by De Worde, at least he probably wouldn't bother with it because it would waste too much ink.

Then...

"Not even a _little gay, _sir?"

"No, Angua!" he exclaimed, feeling a little irritable now. "Not even a little! I can't understand your fascination with it! What does it matter? Surely you don't _like _the thought that I could possibly be gay?" He had never thought he was going to have this conversation. It was unnerving him even more by the minute.

Unfortunately, with Angua's next sentence, he was going to find himself even more unnerved to a peak level as he would make a startling discovery about the minds of women.

"Well... I don't know. It's a bit hard to explain, but to some women, the thought of a man being gay is... attractive, I suppose.

Vimes didn't say anything for a seconds, quite nonplussed.

"It's a recent thing, but gay's becoming the new straight. Oh come _on..." _she said, upon seeing his expression. "Surely you find the idea of two women kissing attractive?"

"...That's... That's different! No! I don't want to be having this conversation, Angua. Let's just leave it there."

"But-"

_"Please, _Angua."

"Okay," she sighed, with the air of both someone who is pandering to a spoilt child but also with a tinge of disappointment.

"I don't have to be gay to be your friend, sergeant. But if you continue to push it I will end up not being your friend and I will _still _not be homosexual."

"Yes sir... Yes sir..."

"We understand each other?"

"I understand you, at least, if that's what you mean."

"Good."

Another pause. However, this time, after what they had been talking about, Vimes tried to settle himself with not thinking about anything _at all._

"It's just a bit of a shame, really, because I had been wondering. If you _had_ been gay, you would have been able to come out with me, Sally and Cheery some nights, and drink a few Screaming Orgasms with us."

"When I want a Screaming Orgasm with you and your friends, Angua, I'll ask for one."

Another pause.

Vimes then swore, upon the remembrance that Dibbler had just recorded him saying that sentence, and that he didn't necasarilly have to play it in context.

---------------------

As I sit here, eating noodles, I feel a bit guilty. However, there are a lot worse things to be doing whilst feeling guilty. I feel guilty about leaving the update for such a long time. Sorry about that, but I've been busy. I also feel a bit guilty about getting noodle sauce all over the keypad, but that is entirely my own fault. My mum will go mental.

I've decided to break the chapter there for now... Just because it seemed right at the time. Voting for who you want to leave is welcome, but some feedback would also be greatly appreciated.

-Blatant Advertisement for roleplay shall now commence-

You've read Older Sibling, but why not experience it for yourself? You could join the house now, and live and exciting house life of burnt breakfast, pride, jealousy, and general pissing each other off. Just go to Discworld Chat forum, and enter the auditions to show Dibbler what you've got! Nine places remain, great characters such as Granny Weatherwax, Angua, Rincewind still untaken! You don't have to choose someone who I've put in this house. Just someone good.

Play the game. Read it your way (that line was far too cheesy).

--- Phew. It's over. You can uncover your eyes now.


	20. Week 7: The show must go on?

Yeah. I'm back. Sorta. We're gonna have a different kind of voting this week.

**DAY 40- 7.00AM: IN THE HOUSE**

Vimes opened his eyes. And even before he did so, the moment that he awoke from his slumber, he could feel it.

…Something wasn't right.

But he couldn't quite put his finger exactly on what it was.

Slowly and cautiously, with the manner of one who knows that anything could be about to happen, he sat up. Automatically, his brain started to analyse the situation in order to find the incongruence.

Location- bed, bedroom, older sibling house

Status- alive (that was good to know), mildly hungry, in need of coffee

Time- …day forty, right?

He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was day forty. Of course it was day forty. How could it not be.

But if it was then why did it feel so very much like it wasn't?

Trying to shake of the feeling, he got dressed. He did so on the bed and under the covers, naturally, like a shy girl on a slumber party at her friend's house. The first time he had done so he had felt foolish for having to dress in such a peculiar manner every morning, but he had gradually become used to it far more than he had become used to the idea of perhaps pulling his pants up in front of millions of viewers. The only other option would be to wear the same underwear for several weeks, and if he did that Sybil would probably never let him in the same bed as her again.

That feeling was still there…

Irritated at himself for not being able to work out what it was and angry for doing what he was about to, Vimes went in search of his Guru.

He found him immediately, sat at the kitchen table as he always did, and thankfully, alone. Vimes sat down next to him without a word. Neither of them looked at each other.

"I must say I am honoured, your Grace," Vetinari said eventually. "It is a rare occasion that you come and talk to me of your own accord, so I must assume that the only reason you are doing so is because you want something. Either that or your heart cannot bear to be away from my side for such a long stretch of time."

After a moment of being glared at Vetinari said: "A joke, commander. A joke. I know that you think I am incapable of humour, but in light of your present reaction I feel that you should consider yourself equally so."

"We're not talking about things like that," Vimes muttered, darkly. "We both know that all that crap isn't true."

"Perhaps. But your constant paranoia, I'm afraid, does not make it easy to believe that you are innocent of the accusations. What is it that you want, Vimes?" he said abruptly, just as Vimes had been about to say something whilst wearing his angry face. "I am a very busy man, after all."

Vimes shut his mouth, and paused. "I've been having strange feelings," he quietly said after a while.

"Really? How pleasant. After all that has happened it must be nice to finally come to terms with one's true emotions-"

"Not those kind of feelings! Not those kind of feelings!" Vimes shouted hurriedly. "Please! Don't talk about anything like that any more! It's stupid! It's gone on long enough! It's over! No more rumours!"

Vetinari then smiled, which scared him even more.

Vimes' scratched the back of his head. Bah. Not acting like an innocent man, he said? Maybe Vetinari was right about that, but he couldn't help it. Anyway, surely the natural reaction for anyone being accused of fancying Vetinari was screaming every now and then. "No, I mean different feelings. Feelings that thing's… aren't quite right." At this point Vetinari seemed more interested. "Something seems funny… Something to do with time, I think..."

An eyebrow raised. "Are you suggesting that Mr Dibbler has changed time? Perhaps sent us into a realm in the past? As dedicated as he is with his work, I do not think that even Mr Dibbler would go that far."

"No, I'm not suggesting that," Vimes conceded, _Although I can't doubt that he will have started to think about it now that the idea's been planted_, "I'm suggesting… I don't know what I'm suggesting. It's just that… It feels like… like I went to sleep yesterday, and then when I woke up today, it felt like I hadn't just been asleep for a night. Like, in the passing of a few hours…"

"A whole year has gone past?" helped Vetinari.

"Yes! Yes! Exactly like that!" said Vimes. "Have you felt it too?"

"No. Of course not. Such things are impossible," Vetinari replied, promptly.

Vimes' looked as though the Patrician's sharp statement had suddenly deflated his confidence. For a moment there he had been so sure. Really? But it really did feel as though something was odd…

But if _he _said so…

"Oh. Oh… right then."

"It is likely to be a mere side affect from having stayed in the House for such a length of time, and you should ignore any other feelings that you have of the like. Perhaps you should go to the diary room and request to see a psychologist."

"Yeah," said Vimes, rubbing his hand back through his hair. "Maybe I will." Was it just cabin fever? Was that really all that it was? The terrier wasn't about to stop digging that quickly. "…Are you sure that it isn't anything real?"

"I am most certain, Your Grace. Please pay no heed to it."

"But-"

"_Do not worry about it, Vimes._"

Defeated, Vimes left the room, leaving Vetinari sat alone behind him as he had been moments before. Maybe he should have gone to Angua first. She might not have been able to give him any answers, but she sure as hell might have at least made him feel a little better.

The Patrician stared after him as he exited.

Once he was gone, Vetinari then took a drink of the cup of tea that was by his side. His lips thinned in contempt. It really was no substitute; they were going to have to get some coffee soon.

But the taste in his mouth was not as bad as the feeling he had inside of him at that moment.

It did not feel pleasant, having to say such things to Vimes. Over their time together he had found pleasure in leading the man gently along, never telling him the whole truth, but always at least leaving him a little clue or idea of what was happening in the world around him, if only to keep him going. Men like Vimes needed a little help sometimes when it came to trying to look at the bigger picture of that was happening, but not to be told completely, for it was the trying to work it out which kept them alive. But in this case Vetinari had just had to quell Vimes' intuitive flame completely by telling a downright lie to him, and it did not make him feel at all pleasant.

As impressed as he was that Vimes' had even been able to notice the passing of time in a world that wasn't his own, he couldn't tell him the truth this time.

"It's for his own good," he told himself, taking another sip of the vile tea. "In this case, the bigger picture would probably scare him."

--------------------------

Okay, I should probably explain, and try not to sound too melodramatic while I'm at it.

I haven't written anything in a long, long time. The last thing I wrote was the last chapter of this and that was… pfft. _Ages _ago. And I haven't read anything discworld for at least a year. I've moved away from writing- I do webcomics now.

I do want to continue, and even finish what I have started with Discworld Big Brother, but… it's a real shame to admit it to myself, but after such a long time… I'm not sure if I'm very good anymore. Them's the brakes.

So here's the choice. I can leave the story where it is- here and now, sorted, a happy memory. Or, alternatively, I can carry on. If I do it may not be at the quality it was when I left off, so you'd have to bear with me, but I can try if you like.

That's the vote, as always I'd like to hear your opinions.

Be seeing yas.


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